


This Night has Opened My Eyes

by FopMistress



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Coercion, Danger, Dragons, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friendship, Guilt, Half-Sibling Incest, House Lannister, Lust, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Paganism, Post - A Game of Thrones, Secret Marriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:55:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 35,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FopMistress/pseuds/FopMistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the delay with this and thanks for your patience. There has been some things going on with me health wise and work wise and it's only now that I've been in the right mindspace to write. Thanks for reading, it means so much. Claire xxx</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I Want The One I Can't Have](https://archiveofourown.org/works/364709) by [FopMistress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FopMistress/pseuds/FopMistress). 



It was a pleasant May evening at 221B Baker Street and all was relatively quiet. John was sitting eating a Tescos Chill Con Carne for one off his knees in front of the BBC 6 o clock news and Sherlock, not hungry as usual, was leafing through a medical dictionary and making notes in a Moleskine notebook at the table.  
  
“Sherlock?” said John through a mouthful of his dinner.  
  
“Don’t speak with your mouth full. What?”  
  
“Shouldn’t you be somewhere?”  
  
“I don’t think so. Where should I be?” He still was intent on his book.  
  
“Your better half?”  
  
“Araminta is not my better half, we are two separate people, extraordinary as she is.”  
  
“Araminta is probably planning to cut your balls off right now. It’s the press conference and launch party for the book tonight, you idiot.”  
  
Sherlock slammed the book down hard on the desk and John jumped.  
  
“Shit!”  
  
Sherlock got up and ran his fingers through his hair.  
  
“You have got some serious grovelling to do.” John chuckled.  
  
“I do not grovel and I never will. I will make amends, I do know how to make Minty happy and I will make it up to her later.”  
  
“You’re doing that smug-face thing again.”  
  
“What smug-face thing?”  
  
“When you’re being full of yourself. Minty is going to chew you up and spit you out, you do realise that? She’s fearsome in a temper.”  
  
Sherlock smiled a little. “I rather hope she will. That would be so much fun.”  
  
John sighed exasperatedly. “Just phone her before she rams a paintbrush up your arse.”  
  
Sherlock picked his mobile up and rang Minty. Her ringtone for Sherlock was You’re My Best Friend by Queen.  
  
“SHERLOCK, FOR FUCK’S SAKE, WHERE THE FUCKING FUCK ARE YOU?”  
  
“Minty, calm down, you sound like a Scottish fishwife. I’m sorry, I got distracted. I will meet you at the Grafton as soon as I can.”  
  
Araminta Holmes-Mackenzie held her mobile to her ear and made exasperated I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening gestures with the other hand. She was standing in the living room of her one bedroom flat in Camden which was her art studio and home to herself and occasionally her husband, Sherlock Holmes.  
  
“But you knew how nervous I am about the book launch party, I’m pure crapping myself. I hardly slept last night. You were meant to met me here and go with me.”  
  
“I know, I know. I made you a hot chocolate at 2 this morning, remember? I got caught up in some reading but I did promise I’d be there, even though I imagine the launch will be full of pretentious media  drones and be a waste of time.”  
  
“This is a big deal for me and my art though…look, I’m not wasting any more time arguing about it. You are a fanny. I’ll see you outside, I’d better order a taxi. See you in a bit.”  
  
“See you soon.”  
  
Sherlock hung up  and Minty ran a hand over her perfectly made up face,  fretting. She felt queasy and it wasn’t the custom made black corset top with a green dragon vertically up one side that was making her like this. She was the illustrator for the popular children’s fantasy series of books Dragon Clan written by her friend Kathleen Coulby and this was the official press conference followed by the launch party for the third book, Dragon Challenge. The books had become cult classics and the latest, the most successful yet, finally reaching number one in the booksellers charts. This changed everything - there were merchandise deals agreed and the potential for Minty to make a decent living after years of just about getting by. Some of the most important people in the children’s book market had been invited and she was eager to make a good impression as the contacts would be useful. Sherlock was her plus one and she wanted the love of her life, her half brother and hand fasted husband there to support her in a sardonic, tetchy sort of way.  
  
This was the reason that Minty and Sherlock lived separately. They were actually half brother and sister. They had grown up not knowing of each other’s existence until their father Siger’s death and Minty had been invited to the reading of his will. Minty’s Mum Helen, an academic, had a secret affair with Siger and just as Helen and Siger couldn’t help their attraction despite Siger’s marriage to Violet, Sherlock and Minty had fallen hopelessly and guiltily in love despite Minty living in Edinburgh and Sherlock in London. They had  gone through so much to be together and had “married” in a hand fasting ceremony just before Christmas.  Their convoluted love story is another story told in another time and in order to preserve some discretion, Sherlock and Minty had bought a one bedroom flat in Camden so that the remarkably attractive and similar couple could conduct married life in private - Minty lived in Camden and Sherlock with his flatmate John Watson at 221b Baker Street. Sherlock spent as many nights as he could, work permitting, in the sofa bed in her living room as she used her bedroom as her studio.  
  
Back to Minty, who was checking her make up in the bathroom mirror and applying her fifth layer of black sparkly lipgloss  and then adjusting her long glossy dark brown hair with a single purple streak which was half swept up in a barrette with a gilt dragon - a good luck present from her Mum. She had the same almond green eyes as Sherlock, the same high cheekbones and was almost as tall. Her hair was the same as her other big half brother Mycroft‘s, Sherlock’s was much wavier.  Her nose and bottom lip gleamed with silver rings. She touched the silver dragon pendant around her neck for reassurance and glanced at her right hand at the silver ring shaped like a dragon which was her Anti-Wedding ring.. Sherlock wore an identical one, mostly round his neck but when they were alone he wore in on the same finger as Minty’s. She smiled. Sherlock called her the Lady of the Dragon due to her green dragon tattoo. Her dragon was her talisman…she could DO THIS. Her outfit was striking in her alternative style - her corset showed her breasts off to saucy wench effect  - she knew Sherlock would love that - and her long legs were in black skinny jeans and ending in her New Rock boots. She didn’t give a shit if they were appropriate for the occasion, she just wanted to be comfortable. She went into the living room and snatched her black fitted jacket with the corset lacing up the back off her purple sofa bed, looking out of her window which looked onto Camden high street. She saw her taxi draw up and she ran out of the flat, locking it and bounded down the stairs into the taxi.  
  
 **IN THE TAXI SEE YOU SOON LOVE MINTY XX  
  
I’M OUTSIDE THE GRAFTON NOW SH  
  
I’M NERVOUS MINTY XX  
  
DON’T BE. YOU WILL BE FINE AND I LOVE YOU SH**  
  
Minty relaxed and smiled a soppy grin. The joy of Sherlock being close enough to tell her this freely hadn’t worn off and she thought of his reaction when he saw her revealing top; the deliberately neutral expression but the slight widening of his eyes, the dilating pupils and the glow of lust that he would not be able to control. That was Sherlock all over - an iron grip on his life and his detective work, his brilliant brain sparking and whizzing continuously from case to case that demanded constant stimulation and the only part of his life that he was in complete thrall to was his wife. She took her jacket off as it was a fairly mild May night and frankly she wanted Sherlock to stare at her boobs for shit and giggles.  
  
The taxi drew up at the hotel and she paid and got out, looking for Sherlock and feeling mildly anxious because she couldn’t see him.  
  
 **WHERE ARE YOU MINTY XX  
  
INSIDE WITH ALL THE OVERINFLATED EGOS SH**  
  
She walked into the plush foyer and saw him analysing the arty and media types with a patronising air and seeing Minty, he stopped immediately, eyes widening and mouth opening slightly.  
  
Oh God….those breasts, he thought. She looked like a female hit-woman from a dystopian alternate universe. All she needed was his gun, which was in his pocket. Just in case.  
  
She walked up to him and squeezed his hand. “What do you think?”  
  
“I would tell you but it would be highly inappropriate in a public setting. But do cover yourself up.”  
  
“Why?” She knew why but wanted to hear him say it.  
  
He leaned into whisper in her ear.  
  
“Because the sight of your half brother having a very obvious erection at the sight of your stunning cleavage would be rather difficult to explain. You look wonderful, Lady of the Dragon.”  
  
Minty slipped her jacket on and took Sherlock’s arm. She could  just see the silver chain holding his wedding ring around his neck glinting in the light. He was wearing that special ink blue shirt she bought him for Christmas under his designer black suit he had had dry cleaned specially for the occasion.  
  
“Do you know where we’re going?”  
  
“Naturally. Shall we?”  
  
“Please escort me in, Mr Holmes.”  
  
“It would be my pleasure Ms Holmes-Mackenzie.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock guided Minty down a corridor and then they were met by a earnest girl in hipster gear and heavy glasses with a clipboard.  
  
“Hiiiiiii! Can I take your names?”  
  
“Araminta Holmes-Mackenzie and this is my plus one Sherlock Holmes.”  
  
Hipster Girl scanned her list and raised her eyebrows.  
  
“You’re on here but he isn’t. This is for press only.”  
  
“Look, if he’s not coming in I’m not either and if I don’t then the press conference is _fucked_. He’s coming to the party. I’m the artist who is going to be interviewed in a bit. Your choice. Where’s Kath anyway?”  
  
“She’s already in. Alright, I guess you can both go in.”  
  
“How perfectly magnanimous of you.” Sherlock delivered this in a way that could shrivel tits and followed Minty into the room where the press conference was being held.  
  
There was a huge projection screen with a long table covered in a white cloth with bottles of water and name cards and rows of chairs in front of that. There were press packs on every seat. Minty scanned the room and made a beeline for a small attractive lady with spiky bleached blonde hair, a scaffold piercing in one ear, dressed in a  black long sleeved top with a  red dragon and black trousers who was talking to a man in a suit. “Kath!”  
  
Kath excused herself and hugged Minty tightly. “Dragon Lady! How are you? And this must be Sherlock?”  
  
Kath winked. Minty had decided to tell Kath after much pondering and Kath had simply said to be careful and that life was too short to be unhappy and alone. It had made Minty realise that she had a close female friend she could trust after all as well as Molly Hooper, Sherlock and John’s friend who worked at St Barts as a pathologist.  
  
“Sherlock, this is Kath Coulby. Kath, this is my brother. I hope you don’t mind that I brought him. I’m crapping myself by the way.”  
  
Sherlock shook Kath’s hand. “Of course I don’t, if it makes you feel more secure but you’ll be fine. It’s lovely to finally put a face to a name. I heard Paris was good?”  
  
“Very good, thank you.” said Sherlock warmly. Kath had referred to the long weekend that Sherlock had booked for himself and Minty in Paris as a small Anti-Honeymoon to match their Anti-Wedding. They had taken advantage of the city of lovers in the truest sense as well as spending time at the Louvre which was a dream come true for Minty who had quietly cried her way around the art gallery overwhelmed with so much stunning art. Sherlock had sighed exasperatedly but had handed her tissues and in a more secluded corner held her and kissed the top of her head…much like had done as a young man at the National Gallery in London when their fascination with each other had terrified them nearly out of their wits.  
  
“Aye, it was smashing” Minty beamed. A PR officer for the book’s publisher joined them, bouffant blonde, officious in a skirt suit and looked Minty up and down with a barely hidden disdain. Minty put her hands on her hips, spoiling for a fight already.  
  
“Minty…we did ask you to make an effort for this.”  
  
“What? I fucking well did! I had this corset specially made and everything. It cost me £200 I’ll have you know. I’ll politely remind you that my art is the first thing kids see on those books and therefore if I want to dress like this, you are not going to stop me. Plus, I guarantee every male journalist in the room will be paying attention to me. I think it‘s the height of bad manners to have a go at someone who had worked hard to make these books a success frankly. Oh and you had better find my brother a seat in the front row for moral support.”  
  
Posh PR Lady really didn’t have a comeback to that and her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.”  
  
“I think my sister deserves an apology for that ill mannered outburst. She is extremely nervous and you are not paid to belittle anyone you are working for. I can only assume that Araminta‘s imposing presence has interfered with what little brain you have.”  
  
Sherlock put a reassuring hand on Minty’s shoulder and he could feel her slightly trembling with rage.   
  
Posh PR Lady glared at Sherlock, beaten. “I’m sorry Minty. Let’s move on, shall we?”  
  
“Yes let’s.” Minty smirked and Sherlock’s hand squeezed her shoulder.  
  
“I’ll run through what’s going to happen. We’ll show the promo video which will take about 15 minutes. Tim from the publishers will give an overview on the book and then questions will be directed to you from the floor. Are you okay with that?”  
  
“Ummmm…yes. Aye. I guess.”    
  
“Minty, you’ll be fine” said Kath. “I’ve done loads of these and they’re never as bad as you think. They’ll be talking to me mostly so you don’t have to worry.”  
  
“And I’ll be in the front row, not far away.”  
  
“Okay. My mouth has gone all dry just thinking about it.”  
  
“Tisha,  can you get Minty some water please?” said Kath.  
  
“Of course.” Tisha - Posh PR Lady - directed Minty to a small table with bottles of still and sparkling water and cups set out in rows. “We’ll get tea and coffee and biscuits afterwards, help yourself.”  
  
Minty chose a bottle of still water, opened it and took a gulp, offering it to Sherlock who took a drink and handed it back. “It’s Scottish water. I like that.”  
  
Journalists were filtering in and taking their seats. “Oh GOD” said Minty, white faced.  
  
“Minty…come outside just for a minute with me” Sherlock said and took her elbow, steering her out the room and eventually into a deserted corridor where he held her tightly.  
Minty quickly looked around. The corridor was deserted.  
  
“Are we safe?” she hissed.  
  
“We’re safe.”  
  
He kissed her quickly but enough for her to make her distinctly damp.  
  
“You are my beautiful, wonderful and brilliantly artistic wife” he whispered. “You are going to be witty, intelligent and you will wow all the hacks in that room because you are a Holmes. And I love you.”  
  
Minty breathed out slowly. “Thank you” she whispered back.  
  
“You’re welcome. And you were fantastic with that stupid woman. Very impressive.”  
  
Minty giggled nervously. “Just because I’ve got better tits than her. And dress sense. She IS a tit.”  
  
“Absolutely. And once the press conference is done, we can stay as long at the party as you want. Personally I would just love to get you out of there as quickly as possible because…”  
  
“Because what? Are you up to something?”  
  
“Oh yes. Hold on to that thought.”  
  
“Alright!”  Minty smiled her first truly relaxed smile of the night. She loved it when Sherlock was plotting something as it usually meant that she would be wet and groaning with pleasure by the end of it.   
  
“You can do this. Now, let’s show them that the Holmes siblings are afraid of nothing and are vastly superior to everyone in that room, because we are, you know.”  
  
Minty nodded. “Right. let’s do this.”  
  
They walked back in, Minty imperiously looking at everyone, regenerated and ever so slightly disdainful and enjoying her newly found poise. She rejoined Kath and Sherlock sat in the front row and studied the press pack and mentally dismantled the journalists settling into seats, taking out notepads, pens and Dictaphones.   
  
Tisha showed Kath and Minty to a pair of seats at the side of the room and Tim, in rolled up light blue shirt sleeves and dark grey trousers, took the floor and introduced the film. Minty watched it, finding that her poise was slipping again. Oh Christ…please let it be over with soon. I’m just an artist for fuck’s sake. She looked at Sherlock watching the film. No…she needed to do this, she was a Holmes. Sherlock, Mycroft (the big dick but still, he WAS the Government) and her. What did they all have in common? BRAINS. A surname. And frankly good looks…no, that was just her and Sherlock. Minty stifled a snort, cheered up. And what on earth was Sherlock planning for her this time? She looked at him again. God, he was gorgeous. AND HERS.   
  
Tim stepped forward when the video finished and there was appreciative applause. “Now that you’ve enjoyed the magical world of Dragon Clan, I would like to welcome Araminta Holmes-Mackenzie and Kathleen Coulby who are the creative minds behind it.” Tim nodded to them and Minty stood up, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans and strode forward with Kath behind her, a half foot shorter at least, taking their places at the table. Minty immediately looked at Sherlock who nodded at her.   
  
Kath deftly handled the questions and Minty was free just to sip her water until a journalist from the Sun homed in on her, or rather, her cleavage. Sherlock frowned, watching carefully.  
  
“Mark Henderson, The Sun. I have a question for Araminta.”  
  
She leaned forward expectantly.  
  
“We have yet another fantasy series aimed at the teen market with a heroine that does not dress or look or behave like the average teen girl.  In today’s already saturated book market, do you really think that Bryony Goldthorpe will appeal to a reader of that age when girls are more interested in boys and make-up?”  
  
Minty really didn’t like the look of him. He was balding, arrogant and was staring at her boobs. Plus, he was sweating through his shirt. Yuck she thought and straightened up. Sherlock looked at her, hard. _Pick him apart, my love. You are a Holmes._  
  
“I think that giving the average teenage girl a teenage heroine who is a tomboy, likes books, climbing trees, solving mysteries and fights evil with the help of her Dragon Clan and actually uses her brain has to be healthier than looking like Katie Price and wanting to marry a footballer. And if my art make a young girl push her magazines away with unrealistic body images and picks up a paintbrush instead then my work is done. Plus, that’s a bit rich coming from a journalist who writes for a newspaper with the reading age of 8 and has Page 3, I believe. What charming family values. NOT.” Minty looked at him as if he was something she scraped off her size 8 New Rock boot.  
  
“Well, aren’t you the smart arse.” he said cuttingly. Tisha the Posh PR Girl cringed. This was not going to plan.   
  
“I’m the one sat up here with a First class Masters in Fine Art and you’re interviewing ME. So, frankly yes.” Minty sipped her water. The journalists laughed and Mark went beet red with rage. Sherlock caught Minty’s eye and smiled the Holmes half smile. _The only woman that is never boring and is clever as she is stunningly beautiful. And she is all mine. Bravo, sweet sister, bravo._  
  
No-one else asked Minty any more questions. She was relieved as she was tired and just wanted the evening to be over with so she could go home with Sherlock.  And although she felt glad she saw off that sleazy journalist so well, it had drained her. She stepped away from the table and Sherlock immediately went to her, taking in her pale face and tired eyes. “You were terrific darling” he said softly. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Tired…I wish I could go home but I’d better do this party for a wee while at least.”  
  
“Just tell me when you want to go. I want you all to myself.”  
  
Minty felt a surge of pure love.   
  
“I think you save the best of yourself for me” she whispered. They locked glances, lost in each other for a few moments and then Kath came up to them. The moment was lost and they switched to brother and sister mode. Kath steered Minty over to someone she apparently needed to meet and Sherlock watched them walk off for a moment then he head over to the table where tea and coffee was set out. He poured a cup of tea and sipped it thoughtfully.  
 _  
Minty was right._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
  
In another room with a free bar and a DJ Minty met a gaggle of simpering, affected and coked-up media sorts all keen to fawn over and air kiss her, pressing business cards into her hands which she handed to Sherlock who hovered protectively, deterring any that looked too drunk or high with poisonous looks and steering her away. They met Kath’s partner Becky for the first time who was a plump tiny lady with bristle cut purple hair and a jolly air. Minty took to her at once and sat with her and Sherlock in a quiet corner talking about being a punk in the 70s which Minty found fascinating, Sherlock less so but Minty cleverly steered the conversation towards current affairs of the time and culture which she knew wouldn’t bore Sherlock too much. She knew how to manage him without him realising it. Kath did the rounds of the room, being more in demand.   
  
“Minty, here’s someone who really wants to meet you.”  
  
Kath brought to Minty’s table a forty something chap with obviously dyed black hair in a dark grey suit and a pink shirt who smiled a bit too much. Minty’s hackles raised on sight but she knew she had to paste on yet another false smile. Sherlock sipped at his pint and analysed him, not liking him one bit but decided he would have some sport with him which could be interesting and knew it would impress Minty.  
  
“Minty, this is Charles Dawson who writes an art blog online, he’s a freelance who does art reviews.”  
  
Minty stood up politely and shook his hand. It was limp and she was only too glad to withdraw her hand. Kath excused herself and went off.  
  
“Minty, this is a pleasure. I’m a real fan of your art and I just love the cover of Dragon Challenge. You’ve got quite a large cult following you know.”  
  
Minty DID know thank you and wasn’t particularly enjoying the way he was talking to her chest. She again regretted buying her corset top but then was annoyed for being made to feel that she couldn’t wear what she wanted because of creepy guys.   
  
“Have you considered doing comic book art? I know of a couple of people who had told me they would love it if you illustrated for them.”  
  
“I’m tied into an exclusive contract to the Dragon Clan books, I‘m afraid. I’ve got a six book deal for now so that’s three more books to do. I can sell my own art  and can take commissions but I can’t illustrate for anyone else, I’m afraid.”  
  
“Such a pity” Charles oozed. Becky and Minty exchanged what-a-sleaze-glances and Minty thought Sherlock was being a little too quiet. She glanced over and he was impassively sipping at his pint, eyes starting to glow maliciously. “We really should have dinner very soon. I know a very good vegetarian restaurant.”  
  
That was the opening Sherlock was waiting for and he stood up to offer Charles his hand.  
  
“I’m Sherlock Holmes, Araminta’s brother. Pleased to meet you.”  
  
They shook hands, Sherlock making sure that his handshake was crushingly firm.  
  
“Aren’t you that detective chap?”  
  
“Consultant detective, yes. I don’t think you will be dining with my sister any time soon.”  
  
“Are you her keeper or something?”  
  
“I couldn’t possibly stop Minty doing anything she wanted to but you are not a suitable dinner date for her.”  
  
Minty nudged Becky and whispered “Here we go.”  
  
“And why not?”  
  
“Repeated sniffing and dusty nostrils showing you’ve got a serious cocaine habit, there’s an indentation on your wedding finger where you have removed your wedding ring in a clumsy attempt to look available and to seduce my sister, newly dyed black hair to make you look younger and the way you are staring at her breasts means you are already imagining her naked and on all fours.”  
  
Sherlock deliberately paused. Charles was flaming red and embarrassed  and Minty and Becky were going pink with the effort of not howling laughing.   
  
“Therefore you are not fit to even look down her cleavage which you have been doing continuously which shows breathtaking bad manners. I suggest you leave before I take you outside and you run into my fist a few times.”   
  
“Muzzle your brother, Minty” Charles snapped. Sherlock quickly stepped towards him, prepared to take him outside which made Charles walk off muttering “stupid goth slag” under his breath.  
  
Becky and Minty couldn’t hold it in and laughed until they both cried. Sherlock sat back and finished his pint.   
  
“Oh, classic” sobbed Becky, trying to calm down. “Is he always like that?”  
  
“Yes” snorted Minty, wiping her cheeks. “My eyeliner will be down my face after that, Christ. Nice one, bruv.”  
  
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I was serious though, ghastly man.”  
  
“What’s the time?”  
  
Sherlock checked his watch. “Quarter past 10. Time to go?”  
  
“I’ve stayed longer than I planned but yep, I just want out of here to be honest and before you assault someone for being a berk. I’ll find Kath first, I’ll just be a mo.”  
  
Kath came back to the table and hugged Minty and then Minty hugged Becky. Sherlock quietly said goodbye and followed Minty out the bar and onto the street.  
  
“God, I’m glad to get out of there. What a bunch of pretentious arses. Sherlock, if I ever get like that, please just shoot me.”  
  
“I can’t see that happening somehow but I would.”  
  
Minty thought he was serious for a split second but he smiled. She took his arm and they ambled slowly down the street.  
  
“I need to phone my Mum. I said that I would tell her how it went.”  
  
“Do that then we’re going to have a little fun before we go home.”  
  
 Minty flushed. She loved Sherlock’s brand of “fun”. She quickly phoned Helen, telling her that the evening was full of sleazy men, she was never doing a press conference again and that Sherlock was better than any bodyguard, who chuckled  and said to tell Helen he said hello. She hung up after telling Helen she would phone back tomorrow for a longer chat, she didn’t want to keep Helen from going to bed.  
  
“I don’t want to keep you from going to bed either but it’s a lovely night for a walk. Do you remember when we were together the first time around and we used to walk around  London when it was getting dark because you said it looked beautiful?”  
  
“I do. I really loved doing that actually. I was so excited about being in London and being with you. It felt that the city belonged to us somehow and it was ours to have fun with. God, we were so…carefree back then. And then real life got in the way and it all went so bad.”  
  
Minty went quiet, remembering the dreadful afternoon when Mycroft discovered the pair in bed together and demanded that they end their relationship, splitting the couple up for 10 years. Minty had tried to kill herself and Sherlock had a breakdown.  
  
“Don’t think of that idiot right now. He was wrong and we were right in the end, we showed him, didn’t we?”  
  
“Yep, we did. Ya boo sucks to you Mycroft.”  
  
“I’m sorry I was late today and I wanted to do something to make it up to you, or rather think of something interesting.”  
  
“Oh, don’t be daft, I’d forgotten about it.”  
  
“I think we should go for a walk, just this once, for one of our special walks. I’m sure we can occasionally, for a treat.”  
  
Minty stopped and turned to face him, eyes shining and she jumped up and down like a little girl.   
  
“Your eyes stopped shining on that day. That’s what I found hardest.”  
  
“Oh Sherlock - “  
  
They looked intently at each other for a few moments and then Minty took his arm again and they set off.   
  
“And where did the special walks thing come from again? I can’t remember.”  
  
“It was from you, Dragon Lady. It was that first time…”  
  
Sherlock held her arm tightly and inclined his head so his mouth was nearly brushing Minty’s ear.  
  
“…I pulled your little kilt up and your pants aside, knelt before you in the dusk as you were pressed against that wall and licked you until you bit your lip so hard it bled because you wanted to unleash your inner dragon and roar. And it was so exciting. When you had calmed down…”  
  
“…And then I went down on you…”  
  
“Ah, so you did. And then we came out of that dark alley into the street and you told me that these would be our special walks and that was it.”  
  
“Sherlock, how much further are we going to be?”  
  
Minty was remembering just how much fun they used to have and could barely contain herself.  She didn’t want the noise of the passing traffic, the smell of the takeaways, the chatter - she just wanted her man, in the dusk, alone and to feel like she used to feel as a carefree student, just for a little while…reckless, untrammelled, on fire.   
  
They had been walking for about 20 minutes when Sherlock grabbed her hand and pulled her into a dead end alley which held communal refuse bins. It was very secluded and dark and importantly, couldn’t be seen from the street.  
  
Minty giggled. “You know how to treat a lady.”  
  
“God, did we actually used to do this?”  
  
Sherlock furrowed his brow at the rubbish on the ground, the dank and dirty brickwork and knew if he really looked hard enough he would see things that would be pretty unpleasant. For once he decided not to be too nosy because it would gross Minty out.  
  
“Yup. Pretend it’s way back then and we’re young and daft again.”  
  
Sherlock pressed Minty against the wall and kissed her fiercely. She tasted of sweet cocktails and he felt the familiar pull into the sweet, sensual and special timespace that was theirs and she met him like a whirlwind. He bent to kiss his way down her neck and then pulled down her corset to tongue her nipples groaning “oh God Araminta…your breasts have been teasing me all night.”  
  
“I know they have…I know you love them. Everyone else can look, but only you get to touch.”  
  
He pulled away to whisper in her ear as he undid her jeans and slipped his hand in, fingering where she was already warm and wet. She rubbed herself against him, sighing, excited and lost in pleasure and…she loved him.  
  
“Tell me I’m the only man you’ve ever truly wanted, that only I make you feel like this, that you can’t wait for me to take you hard against that wall like we were young lovers all that time ago.”  
  
“You’re the only man I’ve ever wanted…only you… you are the love of my life…just make me come. NOW.”  
  
They were staring deeply into each others eyes and Minty was stroking Sherlock to the point of almost no return.  
  
“I love you, Araminta” he groaned. He stroked her hard with highly skilled and gentle fingers until she screamed and his eyes glittered, proud and unabashed.  
  
“I want the whole of London to hear you, Dragon Lady” he said, pulling down her jeans and his trousers and their underwear and thrusting inside her, Minty gasping as she always did and dug her fingers into his back, eager to have him in as much as possible and she closed her eyes, smiling, feeling like the young student discovering the love of her life all over again, protected in the dark and by the man moving in her kissing her face and neck, pouring words of lust and love into her ears. She hardly felt her back scraping against the rough brick and the world faded away so that only Sherlock and their all encompassing, self obsessed love mattered. Minty came again moaning I love you, oh God I love you and went limp against him, Sherlock stifling his triumph. Minty found that tears were streaming down her face as Sherlock straighted her clothes.  
  
“What’s wrong, darling?” he said as he did his trousers up. “I really don’t understand, I made you come twice, that shouldn‘t make you cry? I thought you enjoyed it?”  
  
He was genuinely puzzled.  
  
Minty smiled a watery smile. “I’m sorry, I’m an emoting fool. I’m so fucking happy, excuse the terrible pun. I dreamed of this when we were apart. Can we go for pizza now please?”  
  
Sherlock laughed. “Why do you always get the munchies after we make love?”  
  
“It’s all the energy I burn up, plus I haven’t eaten since my cheese toastie at lunchtime. Too nervous. I’m surprised you didn’t feel my tummy rumbling. Have you eaten much today?”  
  
Sherlock thought about it. “Toast and jam for breakfast as you know and then a packet of Wotsits for lunch at Baker Street.”  
  
“Oh for God’s sake. We’ll get a large Margherita and you WILL have at least three slices.”  
  
Sherlock pulled a face. “I’m really not hungry.”  
  
“You’re not working now, silly boy. You’re with me and as your sister-wife, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.”  
  
“You do realise that you make us sound as if we should be living in Utah and I should have about 10 more wives as well as you?”  
  
Minty pouted. “Am I not enough?”  
  
“You’re more than enough for any man, you succubus. Now, let’s go and get some supper, no hold on.”  
  
“Eh?”  
  
Go onto the street, sweetheart. I want to take your photo so that it’s the wallpaper on my phone.”  
  
“You’re having a laugh? My makeup will be smudged to buggery and I’m all dishevelled. No.”  
  
“Loosen your hair and look at me like you did before I slid into you, Dragon Lady. You looked absolutely stunning. I want John to be absolutely green with envy that I have such a gloriously wanton wife.”  
  
“Flattery will get you everywhere” she said as she took the dragon barette out and slid it in her jacket pocket. She tipped her head down and back, finger combing her hair out.  
  
“Come into the light, just over here. Now, look at me and think of the love we just made.”  
  
She tossed her head back and put her hands on her curvy hips, lasciviousness itself and he held up his iphone and caught it. “Lovely. Look, darling.”  
  
“Not bad actually, you’re right as per sodding usual. Pizza time now.”  
  
Later at their little flat at Camden Minty made them both a cup of tea in the tiny galley style kitchen while Sherlock pulled ouf their sofa bed and made it up. She leaned against the counter and sipped it out of her Iron Maiden mug while Sherlock’s was in a dainty china cup waiting on him. She sipped and blew, enjoying watching him lay out the purple pillows and smooth the matching duvet out. He glanced quickly at her and smiled, making her heart flip over. Oh my man…my man. Although the press conference and party had tried her patience, the rest of the evening had been utterly perfect. They had strolled along holding the pizza box between them (Sherlock actually did eat three slices) and then jumped into a taxi to take them home. Minty felt tired but very contented as she looked around her living room cum bedroom. The off white walls held framed originals of her dragon paintings, a large Game of Thrones promo poster and pride of place, a framed pencil drawing of Sherlock asleep in bed that Minty had done partly from memory and from a photo she had taken the morning after their Anti-Wedding night. He lay on his side, the duvet pulled down to show his bare chest and shoulders and his head rested on his arm. He had been oblivious to Minty taking the photo and Minty had worked for hours to show both the innocence of the sleeper and the sheer lust she felt for him in the work which she had called simply Love of My Life. Sherlock had argued that he really didn’t want it on the wall as it was such a private moment but Minty said that it was her bloody flat, she drew it, it was one of the most sincere works she had ever done so it was going on the wall. The rest of the room held a couple of chest of drawers, a old fashioned coat stand, a small hi-fi on the chest of drawers and a flat screen TV and DVD player. There was no more room for anything else and instead of chairs, there were huge brightly coloured floor cushions on the stripped wooden floor. The hatstand was Sherlock’s contribution with a doctor’s stethoscope hung over it, a cat o nine tails, a World War 2 gas mask and also a St George flag bought purely to wind Minty up.  
  
Minty handed Sherlock his tea and they sat down on the bed. Minty was in a black baggy Hard Rock Café t-shirt with Chinese dragons and red tartan pyjama bottoms and Sherlock was in a blue Mr Grumpy t- shirt (a joke present from Minty) and his grey boxer shorts. Since Minty told him candidly that although she loved his pyjamas, she wanted him to wear something she could quickly pull off if she felt the need, this was his normal night wear at their flat.  
  
“You took tired, love. We’ll drink this and then turn in I think.”  
  
Minty nodded. “Not sleeping last night hasn’t helped any and I’ve been going on pure adrenalin all day. I enjoyed tonight, well some of it. There were some nice people but Jesus, some fucking pricks as well, God. Where are those business cards I gave you by the way, I’m going to bin them because it was the pricks that gave me them rather than the alright ones. I can ask Kath for numbers so it’s not a big deal.”  
  
“I binned them.”  
  
“Oh well that’s fine - you did what?” She did a double take.  
  
“I threw them in the bin as soon as we got out of the Grafton. I knew you wouldn’t want them so what was the point of keeping them?”  
  
“That’s not the bloody point. You could’ve asked.” Minty glared at Sherlock across the bed who looked insufferably smug. Again.  
  
“But I’m right, aren’t I?”  
  
“Aye, but, they were mine, you pain in the bloody arse.”  
  
“I am NOT a pain in the bloody arse. I was merely looking after your best interests as well as correctly pre-empting your actions.”  
  
“You are too. God, I could throttle you sometimes.”  
  
“Probably, but you have to admit I am useful - tonight I was your security guard, best friend and the best lover you have ever had. Do you still want to throttle me?”  
  
“Yes, because you’re  a big headed git. But I’ll bop your nose instead”.  
  
She playfully punched him on the nose, finished her tea, rinsed out the cup in the kitchen then went to use the bathroom. When she came back, Sherlock was in bed propped up on his elbow, waiting for her, his eyes tracking her getting into bed and he lay down, opened his arms to her and Minty shuttled into them immediately as she always did.   
  
“Your eyes are shutting” Sherlock said softly and kissed her, the tenderest of brushes. “I need to be at Baker Street for 11 tomorrow, John’s got some people coming round with potential cases.”  
  
“You heard from him tonight? Is he alright?”  
  
“Fine as far as I can gather. Probably looking at too mucb porn which he does, he thinks he wipes his internet history so I can’t see but I can and do. Nothing terribly unusual or risqué but still.”  
  
Minty grinned. “I’ll bet. And are you seriously saying you don’t on your own laptop?”  
  
“I’m not saying I never have or don’t Araminta, but when I have a wife with a body as voluptuous as yours, it’s like having a Macdonald’s when I can have a Michelin starred meal whenever it’s mutually convenient.”  
  
“Neatly answered Mr Holmes.”  
  
“It’s true. And Good God that corset…there is _nothing_ online that is good as that.”  
  
“I knew you would have eyes on stalks when you saw me. I know what you like. They say men are either into boobs or bums. You are definitely a boob man.”  
  
Sherlock chuckled. “Excellent deduction, Araminta, especially yours.”  
  
He stroked her hair for a few moments as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. He was still quietly grateful that his Minty…this precious, special woman was here with him, in his arms, in this bed. Together. Despite being parted  for ten years and the technical illicit nature of their relationship - she loved him. And for him, that was a sweet, special miracle.  
 _  
Sweet dreams Araminta, ,my love._  
  
“Night, Minty, I love you” he whispered as he closed his eyes and drfted off.  
  
Minty was already sound asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
  
  
Minty woke first and leaned out of bed to look at her mobile. It was just after 9am and Sherlock was face down in their bed, snoring softly. Stretching and yawning, she got up quietly and padded into the small bathroom to brush her teeth and to use the toilet then back into the living room/bedroom and into the tiny kitchen. She flicked on the kettle and filled a cup  - her Scotland one - with coffee and bent to get milk out of the fridge. Sherlock opened his eyes and sat up when he realised she was up and about.  
  
“Morning, my Cersei. Are you making me a cup of tea?”  
  
Sherlock felt very dubious about Game of Thrones until Minty patiently explained to him what it was all about. The main appeal for Minty was Daenerys Targaryen  
and her THREE dragons, that Cersei and Jaime Lannister were twins who were also very much in love with each other and that Cersei married a man she didn’t love but still loved her Jaime and even had his children. The latter bit Minty conceded wasn’t so good because Joffrey was an evil inbred little shitbag but Sherlock had  condescended to watch a couple of episodes with her in their flat cuddled up together and despite himself, he was drawn in, even though he spent most of his time picking fault with the preposterous plotlines. He did rather like the fact there were two siblings in love and learned to keep his smash mouth to himself or have Minty jabbing him in the ribs with her sharp elbows. So, he dubbed her his Cersei and vice versa and ended up enjoying it with her. Only to entertain her. Of course.  
  
“Oh, is that you woken up, my Jaime? I can do.”   
  
“Excellent. I’m going to go to the toilet and then when I come back I am going to have that tea and then have you in a manner as yet undecided, leave it with me.”  
  
Minty burst out laughing. “You really HAVE woken up quickly, how the Hell do you do that?”  
  
Sherlock paused and smiled. “I’m still thinking of that corset. It does strange things to a man.”  
  
“Do I get to pick because I paid a stupid amount of money for that corset and wore it so excellently? Plus, I‘m making you tea?”  
  
“Alright then. I am entirely at your disposal, you shameless hussy.”  
  
Sherlock disappeared and Minty laughed a little to herself as she made the coffee and tea and tingled as she wondered what she might like Sherlock to do with her. Although his only sexual partner was Minty and they had been separated for 10 years, he had been a very quick learner and was amorous and gentle as a lover, all measured power and skilled touches. He applied the studied excellence of his detective work to his intimate life because as always he wanted to be the best at EVERYTHING and simply because he adored his sister-wife so much. She knew what he was best at and what would make her head spin and that‘s exactly what she wanted.  
  
Sherlock wandered back into the living room and thanked Minty for his tea, sitting back down on the bed. Minty sat with him.  
  
“Do you know what you want?”  
  
“I know already by the way you’re looking at me.”  
  
“Tell me then.”  
  
“Your lips are slightly parted and are reddened which is mimicking what is happening in your underwear, you are glancing at my mouth because you are thinking of what I am going to do with my lips and tongue and your eyes have that particular darkness that fills them when you want your favourite sexual activity which is oral sex or specifically me performing oral sex on you.”  
  
Minty slowly nodded. “Good….very good. There’s something I haven’t told you.”  
  
Sherlock raised his eyebrows and sipped his tea, impassive, interested. “Which is, darling?”  
  
“You’re the only man…I…oh God…I couldn’t bear to do that with anyone else, or on anyone else, when we were apart. It was too intimate and was too associated with you and what we had and have. Oh God, I’m feeling all embarrassed now. That sounds stupid.” She got her words out as soon as possible, screwed her eyes shut for a moment and then squinted at him.  
  
“This is me you’re talking to so don’t be. Oral sex is intimate by its very nature and I’m actually touched you did that.”  
  
“I just wish you WERE the only man…for everything more than you know.”  
  
“I know I’m the only man that has ever mattered to you and you never once stopped loving me and I never once stopped loving you. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, I’m going to take your clothes off, lay you on the bed and do what you love me to do the most and what I love doing.”  
  
“And when I get you home tonight after you’ve been out working, I’m going to push you against the wall, unzip you and make you come so hard by sucking you off you will forget your own name and that’s a promise. I hope you will keep that at the back of your mind all day.”  
  
“Possibly not, given my single mindedness but once I’m finished, I will remember.”  
  
“That’s what I expected you to say. Don’t be boring.”  
  
Minty stuck her tongue out at Sherlock and he tackled her onto the bed, tickling her until she shrieked at him to fucking well gerrof her NOW.  
  
He held her wrists above her head.  
  
“Do you know what I want to do with you some time?”  
  
He kissed her hungrily.  
  
“Go on.”  
  
“I’m going to get some wide black ribbon or a black tie and tie you up. Not so much that you will feel constrained, but enough to make it interesting. Would you like that?”  
  
Minty’s eyes sparkled. “Oh YES. Can’t you phone John and tell him that the appointments are cancelled?”  
  
“I would, but John would be pedantic and complain long and loud about how he gets my clients from his blog and that I hadn’t to mess anyone around just because I wanted to stay in bed with you.”  
  
“Bollocks. I’m going to use that stupid English flag and tie YOU up with that, might as well use it for something useful.”  
  
“I will use it on you then.”  
  
“No you bloody won’t. Tying a Scotswoman up with an English flag is a breach of my Human Rights and not right at all. I’ll find some ribbon or something else. The belt of my dressing gown would do. Tied up Sherlock on my bed….you‘ve got women reading that blog that would sell a kidney for that.”  
  
Minty was grinning up at him. “And I can’t wait. I’m just surprised we haven’t thought of that before.”  
  
“Have you done that before?”  
  
“As it happens, no. So that’s something else unique to you and me. I like that.”  
  
“We’ll hold that thought until a mutually convenient time. But until then…”  
  
Sherlock let go of her wrists and quickly moved down their bed to nuzzle and stroke between her thighs through her pyjama bottoms. He knew that he had talked her into a heightened state of arousal already with her eyes darkened to forest green and her voice was husky. He sat up to tug off her t-shirt and kiss her breasts, murmuring how beautiful he found them and perfect, that she was perfect. Her hand slid under his t-shirt and stroked his skin, she cooed you’re amazing, I love this, I love you, please go lower…and he kissed her one time, with so much feeling Sherlock moaned Araminta like a prayer and tugged her pyjama bottoms off and butterfly kissed his way around the inside of her thighs, pausing at the beauty spot on her right thigh to kiss it and ran his tongue around her bikini line and then kissed and flicked her through her black lacy pants watching them grow damper and damper, oh Araminta. He wanted to make her so sexually satisfied that she would never look at anyone else, that they would be bonded by more than shared blood forever. She WAS his sole expression of love.  
  
He pulled her pants aside and plunged his tongue right inside with Minty moaning oh CHRIST and Sherlock’s head spun with how much he adored doing this…worshipping her core, her essence where only he had ever been permitted to do this most intimate of acts, her wonderful earthy taste and scent. He paused and then grabbed the thin material and ripped them off, flinging them aside. Minty lifted her head up in shocked surprise, laughed and he looked at her intensely. She mouthed I love you to him and he lowered his head and started to lick her clitoris with strong licks in an even rhythm, pausing to gently finger her and then off again until Minty was incoherent  and her scream of I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU detonated in his head like a depth charge. He slid his fingers inside her to feel her orgasm pulsate and how he adored that feeling, the ultimate proof that he had brought her to completion.   
  
She lay breathing heavily for a few moments and Sherlock lay with his head on her stomach, stroking it. She sat up, propped herself up on her elbows and breathed out shakily. “Wow…that was..intense.”  
  
“Recovering?”  
  
“Yep…God. Oh God. That was good. Marry me?”  
  
Sherlock laughed and Minty felt it vibrate through her stomach. “We’ve done that but yes, if it ever became legal of course I would.”   
  
“Araminta?”  
  
“Sherlock?”  
  
“Would you mind awfully if you brought forward your generous offer of oral sex to just now? I would love something to set me up for the day?”  
  
“Are you hard?”  
  
“Naturally.”  
  
Sherlock moved so Minty could get up and she more or less pounced on him, dragging his boxers down and with a cheeky wink, ran her tongue up and down his shaft and this time it was Sherlock’s turn to groan. He gently wound his fingers through her hair and shut his eyes…he could only lose control with her.   
  
She carried on licking and teasing and then finally  she took him in her mouth. “Oh Araminta…you are marvellous” he groaned, far, far away. Before Minty he dismissed love and sex as weaknesses and claimed being alone protected him but she had dismantled him, piece by piece. She looked up and saw that he was biting his lip and far, far away, Mind Palace to Pleasure Palace.   
  
“Minty…”  
  
She drew back and watched as he came, always loudly, head thrown back, roaring.   
  
“ I love watching you” said Minty, kissing him. “I love it that I’m the only person that’s seen you like that.”  
  
“I’d love a cup of tea.”  
  
Minty thumped him with a pillow.  
  
 _As the couple lay in each others arms for a few minutes longer and chatted before getting up to make breakfast, an e-mail was being opened and watched for the 17th time by a female intent on committing it to memory. The female was glamorous and deadly in a black skirt suit , long red hair swept up and Louboutin heels. She watched it on her laptop at her kitchen  table.  
  
The man, with wide, manic eyes and dark hair spoke directly into the camera.  
  
“By the time you get this video I will be dead and so will Sherlock. Everything I’ve planned for will be complete.”  
  
He paused.  
  
“But we both know bad old Sherlock, don’t we? Always has a habit of spoiling my fun, such a disappointment. And I don’t like that.” He whined like a little boy who wasn’t being allowed a few pounds for a Transformer and his lower lip stuck out.  
  
“This is my insurance policy. If I haven’t finished him off, then this will.”  
  
He paused.  
  
“Sherlock’s been a bad bad boy you see. He’s not the ice man he makes out. Oh no he isn’t! He’s got a big, bad secret. A DIRTY DIRTY secret. Naughty, naughty, very very naughty!”  
  
“He’s in love with his half sister. Mycroft told me, oh yes he did! And her name is Araminta Holmes-Mackenzie. She lives in Edinburgh and they have the same Daddy. He caught them at it, how perfectly grubby. And now Sherlock can’t love anyone else because he can’t get over her. That’s how he understands love. He’s human just like everyone else. SHE is THE Woman, not you. But you could be. I know you can use this and make us both very happy. It’s too perfect for words. And we will all live happily every after.”  
  
A photo of Minty, taken from a distance on a street in Edinburgh, flashed on the screen.  
  
With a hysterical fit of laughter, he was gone.  
  
“The game is on again, Mr Holmes” she whispered. “A lover or a friend? A big thing or a small, The Winner Takes it All!”_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
Minty’s phone rang on the table in her studio and she howled a frustrated Scottish blast of imaginative swear words with elongated vowels and richly rolled Rs. She HATED being disturbed in her studio and she was exactly like Sherlock when it came to her work  - a virtual Do NOT Disturb sign was sternly pointed at. She had been standing barefoot in ripped blue jeans and a Download t-shirt tacking prints of photos she had found online on a white wall.  
  
She saw it was Sherlock and still felt sweary but she would allow it.  
  
“Make it quick” she snapped.  
  
“I know you’re busy darling, sorry. I’ve got a case so I won’t be in when you come round for your bath later.”  
  
Minty loved her flat but not the fact it didn’t have a bath tub so she had planned to go to Baker Street for a long luxurious soak later in the day.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Blackmail. A high class call girl is being blackmailed by a former client and she doesn’t know who. I have to go to her flat to speak to her. It was the best of a bad lot to be honest.”  
  
“It’s good you’ve got something to be getting on with. When do you think you’ll be back or is it how long is a piece of string?”  
  
“Piece of string. I’ll let you know if it’s going to be a late one. If it’s late please get a taxi back to Camden, don’t use the Tube. I know you do and you don’t tell me.”  
  
Minty was touched by his concern for her personal safety and annoyed that he had sussed her out all at once. She had a thought and giggled.  
  
“Now, if the naughty lady tries to touch you in a special area, you say NO and tell a grown up, okay?”  
  
“Ha ha funny. I’ll let you touch me in a special area when I get back, will that do?”  
  
“Perfect. What do you know about her? Don’t tell me…blood group, bra size, what she had for breakfast, what she charges?”  
  
“Her name is Amanda Gladstone but her professional name is The Strict Machine and her bra size is 34DD apparently, according to her website.”  
  
“Where have I heard that before…oh that’s it, The Strict Machine is a Goldfrapp song.”  
  
“Is it?”  
  
“Aye, they do dance-y sort of music. Not my thing but it’s alright I guess.”  
  
Minty paused. Sherlock listened, he sensed she was onto something. Clever, clever woman. Although he was working, he fell in love with her a little more.  
  
“And I’ve thought of something else.”  
  
“I know you have.”  
  
“She has the same initials as Alison Goldfrapp who is Goldfrapp’s singer. I don’t know if that’s significant but it might be. It might not be her real name, I have this odd feeling?”  
  
“Two aliases…this is getting interesting, sweet sister. I knew there was a reason I married you, apart from your pneumatic bosoms, stunning beauty, sexual prowess, high IQ and impeccable breeding.”  
  
“My head’s positively wasted, you’re not so bad yourself. And it is?”  
  
“Intelligence. You _think_.”  
  
“And I bet she’s into telling men they’ve been naughty boys?”  
  
“Correct. This has been very useful, I’ll leave you to it.  I love you, my Cersei.”  
  
“Love you too, my Jaime.”  
  
He hung up and she mouthed a kiss to the mobile, set it back on the table and continued to pin up photos, squinting, pausing, stepping back and writing thoughts down on a large foolscap notepad as she went. This is how Minty got ideas for paintings. She had a vague seasons thing floating round her head - but couldn’t decide if it would be Dragon, Witch or Demon. She quite fancied Witch. That was a goer, and she could always call Hippy Tam, the druid who conducted the Anti-Wedding for ideas. She wrote that down.  
  
She could hear You’re my Best Friend by Queen from the table. Oh Sherlock, what now?  
  
“For fuck’s sake, what now?”  
  
“Tonight. If I’m not back, there will be a twenty quid note on my bedside table. Take it and get a taxi home.”  
  
“You really don’t have to, darling.”  
  
“I know I don’t and don’t go all I can pay my way on me, it‘s unnecessary. You don’t know who is out there late at night in London and I do. Plus going to your funeral would be a desperate inconvenience.”  
  
He hung up and Minty shook her head. Domestically Sherlock was inept to the point of being infuriating and even being asked to do the dishes would be met with rolled eyes and sighs, although he would. He had said soon after their hand fasting that he loved being committed to Minty, he wasn’t into all that housework stuff and would gladly contribute to sleeping in Minty’s flat - technically their joint owned flat - in other ways. So, he would order groceries for her online and if she needed money for something, he would leave it for her. She never had to ask - he always knew what was needed. Theirs was the oddest and one of the most illegal “marriages” in the UK, bar some illegal immigrants being married for residency purposes. But against all odds, it worked. She laid the phone back on the table, tidied up the paper  on the floor and booted up her laptop to update her blog and after that she would phone Helen to ask her if the orders for her prints were up to date. Since Helen had retired she had taken over the business side of Minty’s art for her which made life so much easier. Neither she or Sherlock had a head for Grown Up Sensible Stuff.  
  
Later that afternoon she walked up Baker Street and let herself into 221B. She went up the stairs and into the flat, looking around. She hadn’t been here for about a week and a half but it still felt like home.  
  
John appeared from the kitchen with a  cup of tea. Minty’s eyes widened with surprise as she sat her black army rucksack on the floor.  
  
“John…hi. What are you doing here?”  
  
John set his tea down onto the small table beside his chair and hugged Minty tightly. He really did love her to pieces and they had a little sister big brother relationship by now. He still missed her boisterous presence in the flat that made the place a lot more fun even if he did have to sometimes pick up broken mugs after Minty threw them at Sherlock in a temper.  
  
“I live here, remember. How are you doing?”  
  
“Good thanks, honey. Why aren’t you off with Sherlock?”  
  
“This Strict Machine woman texted Sherlock to say that she wanted to see him alone so that he was being completely discreet. I was going to go with him but I couldn’t. You really don’t have to look so worried. If Sherlock needs me for anything I will be round there like a shot, he just has to give me a shout.”  
  
“Oh, okay.” Minty wasn’t completely convinced but she would accept it.  
  
“Do you want a cuppa?”  
  
“Lovely thank you. Is there anything dodgy in the bath?”  
  
“No, and Mrs Husdon cleaned it yesterday.”  
  
“Lovely. I really miss a good long soak. If there was room in my wee flat for it I’d get the bathroom renovated and one fitted but this is fine.”  
  
John went to make her a cup of coffee. Sherlock was nearly always tea, his sister nearly always coffee. Minty took off her battered biker jacket and sat it beside Sherlock’s chair and sat down.  
  
“We haven’t had a good chat for ages, I miss that” John commented as he came back through with her coffee.  
  
“Thanks. I do too. I miss seeing Mrs Hudson as well. I hope she’ll pop in at some point while I’m here. I’ve been so busy what with all the stuff for the book and obviously being a wee wifie too.”  
  
“Hardly wee. You tower over me, so does Sherlock mind you. I heard that you did well at the press conference with that sexist journalist?”  
  
“Oh Jesus, him. He was an arse and more interested in looking at my boobs than talking about my art. I really wish I hadn’t worn that corset now, I just wanted to look good for the party and press conference.”  
  
“Sherlock showed me that photo he took. You looked great in it and he’s very proud of you for handling it so well, I know how nervous you were.”  
  
“I just feel that things are finally fitting into place for me. This time last year I was in Edinburgh and just diddling along, not desperately unhappy but not fulfilled either. I knew Alan wasn’t the love of my life but I was trying to make the best of it. And now, I’ve got my own flat and my art is finally really taking off and I’ve got Sherlock after all this time.”  
  
Minty took a drink of coffee and John could see the uncertainty she was feeling. She set her mug back down and started to pull gently at her lip ring, her nervous tic.  
  
“John…I know he loves me and he seems fine with us but I get scared.”  
  
“What about, Minty?”  
  
“I get scared that he’ll get bored with me easily and drop me. Oh God that sounds really pathetic but you know what he’s like. I get worried that we’ll get into some sort of rut and he’ll start looking elsewhere. I love him so very much John, I don’t want that to happen.”  
  
“I’m hardly a relationship expert but you could say that of a lot of men, not just Sherlock. Before I knew about you, I thought, like everyone else, he was just not interested in women or relationships. I  did always knew he wasn’t heartless and cold and listening to him crying over you when he found out you were getting married to Alan proved that. Sherlock loves you.”  
  
“Just ignore me, I’m just being insecure and stupid. You’re right.”  
  
Minty smiled, all sun after the rain.  
  
John thought _God she really is beautiful. No wonder Sherlock is crazy about her…I would be given half the chance too.  
_  
“You know when the pair of you turned up and stopped me marrying Alan?”  
  
“Just another day at the office stopping Sherlock shoot your ex-fiance and rescuing his half-sister who is still in love with her half-brother who is my best mate. Yep, I’ll say I remember it. But do carry on.”  
  
“Being a sarky git doesn’t suit you, Watson.”  
  
“I live - part time at the moment it would seem - with your brother. It’s enough to bring out the brat in anyone, I swear.”  
  
“Fair enough. After we left the registry office and we headed back to my hotel, it started to feel like someone had hit the pause button on our relationship 10 years ago and hit play because it just felt right. We had a lot to discuss and catch up on obviously but I just felt so comfortable with it and with him, that’s what I’m trying to say. I‘m aware that this sounds weird.”  
  
“Possibly not, given that Genetic Sexual Attraction is apparently more intense than normal relationships. You are both a textbook case.”  
  
“I guess so. Funny how things pan out, really. And you’ve been so good to the pair of us, Sherlock can be a prize muppet at times but he’s not a bad lad, you just have to know how to take him.”  
  
Minty paused, grinned, turned pink and started laughing a Sid James full on cackle.  
  
“Sorry, I’m terrible. That was uncalled for.”  
  
John laughed with her. “Thanks for reminding me my own love life is a disaster.”  
  
“You should have a really lovely lassie by now though, John. Seriously. You’d make someone a lovely wife.”  
  
“Thanks for that - not. I get the impression everyone thinks that I’m dating Sherlock or something.”  
  
Minty snorted. “Bromance more like! This wouldn’t be an issue if I could go public about my brother-husband, but the sun will shine blue first. That being said, you do know that over Christmas he shut himself in my bedroom at Mum’s and researched The Human Rights Act, incest and started pulling together a defence in case we are ever discovered? I only saw him at mealtimes and in the mornings when he would come and wake me up. Oh and late at night after Mum went to bed. That was interesting - “  
  
“TMI.”  
  
“Sorry. He said that he didn’t want to be bored and you know what he’s like, he hotches terribly if he’s got nothing to do. Anyway, I just said that’s fine and as long as you eat with us, you can carry on. He’s apparently got some barrister that owes him a few favours to go over it. It must be a bent barrister as what we’re doing is breaking the law but he knows all sorts. Apparently, it’s pretty tight.”  
  
“He did mention it in passing but that sounds like him.”  
  
“Oh aye. I’d better go and have that bath I guess and stop pestering you.”  
  
“Enjoy And you‘re not pestering me, really. If he‘s not back do you fancy a takeaway? Any preference?”  
  
“Ooooo, lovely. Chinese please.”  
  
“I’ll hunt out the menu.”  
  
And as Minty was running her bath Sherlock was buzzing the intercom of a door in a very upmarket street.  
  
“Who is it?” said a voice that Sherlock correctly guessed to be in her mid twenties, educated, carefully modulated tones Privately educated.  
  
“Sherlock Holmes.”  
  
“I’ll let you in. The Strict Machine is expecting you.”


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
Sherlock opened the door and walked into a hallway with solid wood flooring and soft grey-brown walls. He correctly guessed it was Farrow and Ball Mouse‘s Back, very recherché. A small slim lady with a black flapper style bob in a black skirt suit and heels was waiting for him.   
  
“Mr Holmes, I will take you through to the Strict Machine. She is in the Punishment Room waiting. Would you like some refreshments? Tea, coffee, something stronger?”  
  
“Tea, please. Earl Grey if you have it.”  
  
“Of course. I will attend to it presently. Do come this way.”  
  
They walked down the hall and directly in front was a door painted bright red. Red for danger, red for passion, entirely in keeping with what went on in there. Did she want him to see where she worked or to make some sort of grand impression as a seasoned seductress?  The lady, who was The Strict Machine’s PA, opened the door and ushered Sherlock in. The room was painted entirely in black with a contrasting red matte vinyl floor - easy to wipe clean - and there was a huge bed in the centre covered with black sheets. There was some sort of hoist on the ceiling and chains and hooks on the walls and he could see a wooden table that had an array of paddles and whips on it. The Strict Machine was in a black rubber catsuit and spike heeled black boots with her hands on her hips, standing in the middle in the room. Her red hair flowed down her back and she had a small Venetian black mask on. _Why was she hiding her face?_ Sherlock thought and he felt suspicious and unusually for him, unsure.   
  
“Welcome, Mr Holmes. It‘s been a long time.” she purred.   
  
It was the last thing he would  remember as he felt a stab of something very sharp going into his left arm and he lurched forward, swaying, eyes rolling and then swayed back, forward and then back and crashed on the floor.  
  
As his mind faded to mist then black, he remembered who that voice belonged to.  
 _  
Irene Adler…..how…why…_  
  
And…she was gone.  
  
As Sherlock lost consciousness, his sister-wife luxuriated in a long hot bath, eyes closed and mind drifting off. She idly wondered how Sherlock was getting on and opened her eyes. She reached out of the bath onto the bathmat to grab her phone and smirking, texted him.  
 **  
I’M IN THE BATH AT BAKER STREET. I WISH YOU WERE IN HERE TOO. HOPE YOU’RE BACK SOON. LOVE YOU XXX**  
  
She sat it down on the floor again carefully and relaxed back in the bath, fully expecting a replying beep in a few moments. Nothing. She frowned but thought he might not want to be disturbed right now. That was fine, he would get back to her soon enough and he would come back, all smug and cheerful at being professionally smart-arsish, maybe eat some heated through Chinese (what would he want? Something simple like chicken fried rice maybe?) and then back to Camden. She lay there for a few moments, trying to relax but willing Sherlock to reply. She really didn’t feel comfortable with his silence given that he took great pleasure in firing back something sharp and smart as quickly as possible and just for Minty, often something sexy. She retrieved her phone and scrolled through her messages from him and she went even pinker reading them in the steam. So much sincere love and desire, wondering what to have for tea, forgetting house keys and running out of bread. Oh, she was a lucky Dragon Lady. Everything would be just fine, really. It would.  
  
Out of the bath and dressed, she padded through to the living room and sat in Sherlock’s chair, studying her phone which was still Sherlock-silent.  
  
“Have you heard from himself yet?”  
  
John sat down his book. “No, but he’ll be busy finding out who is blackmailing the Strict Machine. I really wouldn’t worry about him.”  
  
“I told him that I think she uses a double alias because her initials, AG, are Alison Goldfrapp’s from Goldfrapp who did that song Strict Machine and call me nuts but I have a bad gut feeling about it. I don’t know why but I don’t feel good about this. I understand one alias but why two? That shows she’s going something to hide, or is hiding something.”  
  
“This isn’t the first time he’s investigated a sex worker, Minty. We had a case a while back and it was a dominatrix who - “  
  
“Yeah, yeah, Irene Fucking Adler. The Woman. Brother dearest fancied her, I know all this.”  
  
Minty was drumming her fingers against the arm of the chair, agitated.   
  
“I didn’t say that to wind you up. He did fancy her - as much as he ever will anyone who isn’t you - but he did nothing about it, I promise. He even had her staying here to keep her safe but she was alone in his bed, I saw her sleeping.”  
  
“I can’t really say anything, pot and kettle. He never once forgot or replaced me and I screwed my way around Edinburgh after we were split up by bloody Mycroft and was even going to get married. If he did fuck her, I wouldn‘t have blamed him one bit.”  
  
“Minty…moving swiftly along, what I’m trying to say while managing to completely wind you up is that he’s done this type of thing before and he will be perfectly fine.”  
  
“Aye, you’re right, I suppose. Is it true you both saw her in the scuddy-nuddy?”  
  
“Yes, she met us both in her “battle dress”. Naked as a jay bird as they say.”  
  
Minty snorted. “And the best thing is he did know exactly where to look and how to look to get the pass code to her safe because she didn’t know that she wasn’t the first woman he had saw naked. I was. And he just loves curves. Mine especially.”  
  
“I’ll vouch for that. He showed me the photo he took of you last night in that corset. He was all that‘s my wife and she‘s all mine. I said he was a lucky bastard. He does love a good boast.”  
  
“Job done then. We’ll hear from him when we hear from him, I guess. I’m getting hungry, shalll we order takeaway? We should get him chicken fried rice, something simple for him to have later when he gets back. By the way, have you noticed he’s filling out a wee bit?”  
  
“I have actually. He’s still built like a whippet but he certainly looks healthier.”  
  
“It’s the love of a good woman, or in the absence of that, me. You know he can’t face big meals when he’s working or thinking? I make him simple things that are good for him but are easy to eat and digest like scrambled eggs on toast for supper and porridge in the mornings when he’s at mine. That way, he gets nutritious food but not an overtly full stomach. And if I make him it, he will eat it. My Mum gave me a recipe for home made vegetable broth that she said even I couldn‘t mess up so I make some of that. Next time I make some, I‘ll give Sherlock a tub to take for you. It‘s  not too bad even if I do say so myself. She said at Christmas that there was more meat on a butcher‘s pencil than on him and was making really tasty food and nagging him to finish his plate. I think he grudgingly liked it in his own way, he didn‘t get too much attention from his own Mum from what he‘s said. We’re good for him, me and you. I love him and you keep an eye on him and you’re his friend. I‘m his friend too.”  
  
“And he’s good for us, although he can be an annoying dick. I’ll order Chinese. What do you want?”  
  
“Oh…get them to do me a vegetable fried rice with cashews through it. And chicken fried rice for his Lordship, please.”  
  
While John was phoning the Chinese takeaway, Minty texted Sherlock.  
 **  
I’M GETTING YOU CHICKEN FRIED RICE FOR YOUR TEA WHEN YOU GET BACK  HOPE ALL IS WELL LOVE YOU XXX**  
  
She held her phone and willed it to beep into life. Nothing. John was perfectly relaxed and this made Minty feel paranoid. She did still feel worried but didn’t dare admit it. She fixed a smile on her face when John asked her what she wanted to watch on TV and Minty said that she would like to see the news now but  maybe after they had dinner they might see what films were available on Sky? John said fine but nothing too weepy or girly. When the food arrived and John and Minty dished it up and they ate, she ate it automatically without really tasting it. Still no reply from Sherlock.  
  
The evening was punctuated by her texts:  
 **  
7PM  
  
SHERLOCK YOU’RE VERY QUIET, NOT LIKE YOU. IF YOU NEED JOHN, JUST GET IN TOUCH, DON’T BE A HERO. LOVE YOU XXX  
  
7:23PM  
  
ARE YOU OKAY LOVE YOU XXX  
  
7:46PM  
  
SHERLOCK, WISH YOU WERE HOME RIGHT NOW. WORRIED XX  
  
8:03PM  
  
WHERE ARE YOU I’M REALLY WORRIED NOW PLEASE TEXT ME DARLING LOVE YOU XXX  
  
8:49PM  
  
SHERLOCK I FEEL LIKE A MAD STALKER REPLY PLEASE XX  
  
9:12PM   
  
THIS IS STUPID JUST TEXT ME ARE YOU IN TROUBLE XX  
  
9:28PM  
  
YOU ARE REALLY BOILING MY PISS NOW TEXT ME XX**  
  
They had found Ferris Bueller’s Day off and just as Ferris was singing Twist and Shout at the parade to the crowds,  Minty stood up and started to pace up and down.  
  
“Fuck this shit, John. I’m scared. WHERE IS HE?”

  
“Minty, he will be fine. He’s been around the block a few times. He’s very handy with his fists and he’s got his gun. If he’s being quiet, it will be for a reason.”  
  
Minty stood in front of John’s chair and put her hands on her hips.  
  
“John - this is my brother-husband. I share his blood. I know my Sherlock inside out. We’re not twins but we’re totally bonded. I know something’s not right.”  
  
“It’s gone 10. I think you should go back to Camden in case he’s back there for whatever reason and I’ll give it until 11. If he’s still not back, I’ll get a taxi and go to the Strict Machine’s place and see if he‘s there Otherwise God knows where he would be. Will that make you feel happier?”  
  
Minty nodded rapidly. “I feel so stupid but thanks. I’ll go and get that 20 quid he left for me.”  
  
She went into Sherlock’s bedroom, back to its plain and austere appearance and stripped of Minty’s fantasy art posters and alternative stylings and took the single note off the table, smiling a little at a small framed photo. It was of the couple over 10 years ago and it was the photo that he had hidden in the lining of his violin case. She was cuddling into Sherlock and held his protective arm round her tightly and possessively - this was HER man. She was glad that he could display it and she wanted him back in one piece even more so now. _Oh my Jaime…where are you?_  
  
Minty looked up at her flat from the pavement below and it was in darkness. She sighed and unlocked the main door, let herself into the stairway and headed up to her flat. Once in, she made herself a coffee and booted up her laptop as although it was getting late, she knew she wouldn’t sleep well. Maybe there might be an e-mail from him or something.  
  
 **ARE YOU HOME SAFELY? ANY SIGN OF SHERLOCK? JOHN XX  
  
NO HE’S NOT HERE ARE YOU GOING OUT XX  
  
I’VE ORDERED A TAXI. KEEP YOU POSTED. DON’T WORRY XX**  
  
She had 68 spam messages and deleted them. No, she didn’t want to extend her length or was interested in Make Her Wild In The Bedroom With Your Tool. Ugh. Were men really that insecure…her Sherlock had nothing to worry about there! In her inbox, she saw message from sh221b@gmail.com and let out a long slow whoooo of relief. Oh thank God for that…was that an attachment? Curious.  
  
Minty waited for the virus scan to check it and then opened it up. It was a video clip.  
  
What she saw made her go very still and quiet, hot, cold, hot, cold and then the violent shaking and crying began. No…NO NO NO NO.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
  
While Minty’s known world was crumbling around her, John was en route to the Strict Machine’s house. He thought that Minty was needlessly fretting but then again, she did have that weird woman’s intuition thing going on and also she did have a point - for Sherlock not to be in contact for that long was very out of character. The taxi pulled up, John got out and paid and then rang the buzzer.  
  
The Strict Machine’s PA answered it.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“My name is John Watson, could I please speak with the Strict Machine?“  
  
“It’s very late and I’m afraid that she is busy with a client. Would you like to book an appointment?”  
  
“No thank you. I know that she was with Sherlock Holmes today. Is she still with him?”  
  
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss her clientele with you. We maintain maximum discretion at all times.”  
  
“He isn’t a punter. It was a business appointment, she approached him through my blog, I work with him. I’ll ask you again. Did she meet with him today and is he still there?”  
  
“You’re not going to go away are you?” The PA’s tone was boredom laced with exasperation.  
  
“No, I’m going to stand here and be a nuisance until you give me a straight answer. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do like catalogue your employer’s whip collection or something or clean her butt plugs.”  
  
This made the PA laugh, thrown off her guard. “Mr Holmes was here earlier but isn’t now. That’s all I am prepared to tell you.”  
  
Where the Hell was he then? “I suppose that’s the best I’ll get. Thanks a lot.”  
  
“You’re welcome Mr Watson. Goodnight.”  
  
“Goodnight then.”  
  
John walked onto the pavement and ran a hand over his face thinking. Sherlock could be anywhere. He had tried to phone him in the taxi but got his voicemail. He tried again and this time left Sherlock voicemail.  
  
“Sherlock, it’s me. Minty is going out of her mind with worry and she’s sent me out to look for you. I’ve just been to the Strict Machine’s and you’re not there. Phone me.”  
  
He was worried now himself but was at a loss as what to do for the best. If he phoned the police and Sherlock was fine, he would never live it down and it was probably too soon to declare him as a missing person. He might as well go home and give it until the morning and then, if there was no sign of him, get a hold of Lestrade or something. He flagged a taxi down and got in it, wondering what to say to Minty that wouldn’t make her orbit the moon.  
  
Meanwhile, Minty had watched a five minute video that with each minute ripped her heart out and booted it about her living room floor. She was sitting on her sofa bed - the same one that she had shared with Sherlock - rocking back and forward, moaning in a voice she didn’t quite recognise as hers. Tears freely streamed down her face and she keened, gripped with grief. And fury.  
  
“No….Sherlock…no…why…why…oh….fuck…fuck…fuck you….fuck you…I hate you, you cunt…you fucking cunt…what did I do wrong…no…no…please God no…you fucking cunt…you FUCKING CUNT!”  
  
The video was of a couple in an anonymous hotel room naked and having sex. The woman had flowing glossy dark hair and was riding the man hard and slapping his face while she was doing it. The man was strangely unresponsive but clearly, horribly, Sherlock. The woman kept up a stream of filthy talk as she slapped him.  
  
“I’ve wanted you for so long, gorgeous boy…I have to have you…God your prick fills me so perfectly…you’re so big…fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, make me come, oh God…FUCK ME!”  
  
The last “fuck me” was ecstatic and she threw her head back and collapsed onto Sherlock, who was still lying with his eyes closed. Technically he was doing no such thing, more the fuckee than the actual fucker, but Minty didn’t notice that.  
 _  
A woman, who was NOT her, was bouncing up and down on her brother-husband’s cock. That’s all she could and would see. That’s all that mattered._  
  
Minty closed her eyes but cruelly all she could see was snippets of what she had just watched and an unwelcome flashback of Sherlock’s Anti-Wedding ring shining on its chain round his neck made her run to the bathroom, sink to her knees and vomit several times into her toilet bowl until she brought up watery bile. She leaned her forehead against the cool porcelain for a few moments, still crying quietly. She couldn’t remember experiencing emotional pain like this since Sherlock was parted from her all those years ago and it was like she was gripped by it and it was ripping everything she held sacred and dear apart.  
  
Still sobbing she stood up and flushed the toilet and half walked half blindly staggered into the living room and then into the kitchen for a glass of water to clean out her mouth. She swilled the water round and then spat it out. She needed to talk to someone…who…John? No. He probably knew about this, he was Sherlock’s best mate. Mum…she NEEDED her Mum. This made her weep harder and her back slid down the cupboard under the sink until she was sitting with her knees tucked under her chin, eye blindly unseeing through tears.  
  
“I want my Mum.” she wailed like a three year old. “Oh Mum, what do I do?”  
  
She got up and found her phone in the living room and speed dialled Helen in Edinburgh who was sitting watching Sky News and enjoying a mug of Horlicks in her living room before bedtime. It was pretty late for anyone to phone and she immediately knew it would be Minty.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Mum! Mum….oh Mum….”  
  
Minty was crying so hard she couldn’t speak. Helen tensed up as something was badly wrong.  
  
“Minty…sweetheart, calm down. Take deep breaths. What’s happened?”  
  
Minty gasped, gulped and hiccupped, trying to speak.  
  
“Take your time, I’m here my wee flower.”  
  
Minty sniffed and gulped. “Oh Mum…it’s Sherlock. He’s….oh God…it’s horrible - “  
  
“What darling?”  
  
“He’s shagged someone else.”  
  
“He’s done what?”  
  
“He’s sent me a dirty video of him shagging someone else. It was awful - “  
  
Minty started to weep again.  
  
“What do you mean he’s sent you a dirty video?”  
  
“He e-mailed it to me. Some whorebag was bouncing up and down on him. It’s nasty…it made me be sick in the bog. I can’t believe he’s done that to me. If he was bored of me all he had to do was say, he didn’t have to do that. He’s a CUNT and I HATE him.”  
  
Helen was about to tell her grown up daughter off for her language but decided not to.  
  
“Minty…I can’t quite believe he would do that. I saw you both at Christmas and while we can’t say Sherlock is exactly one of the Chuckle Brothers at the best of times, he seemed very much a man in love with his wife. It  really doesn’t add up. And he’s never had any other serious relationship and I don’t really think he would be the type of man who would play away. I mean, he was at the book launch last night and you phoned me afterwards. Everything seemed fine. Was it?”  
  
“Aye, it was great. We…ummmm…went for a long walk and then went for pizza and after that back to Camden and we got up this morning and it was fine, nothing weird. He even left me £20 at Baker Street for a taxi home tonight as I went there for a soak in the bath this afternoon. He said he would try to get back as soon as he could to see me home but if not, the £20 was there. My head’s thumping like the Edinburgh Military Tattoo’s in it. I can’t believe he did that…I can’t believe it. Oh, Mum… after everything we‘ve been through, he does this!”  
  
A wave of fresh tears and Helen felt absolutely helpless. She really didn’t like the idea of Minty being so upset with no-one with her and being so far away from Edinburgh. She also felt furious with Sherlock but still had the nagging thought that the situation wasn’t as clear cut as Sherlock sleeping with someone else and ending it in a spectacularly cruel manner. He often had little idea of what was socially acceptable behaviour but she couldn’t get her head around the idea that he would make what was essentially a porn video and e-mail it to Minty.  
  
“I know what Sherlock’s done is awful, but you do need to speak to him about it. Have you tried to phone him?”  
  
“I tried to text him loads of times tonight but I didn’t get a reply. Too busy shagging that whorebag probably. I haven’t tried since. I can’t bear even speaking to him right now.”  
  
“Have you spoken to John?”  
  
“John said he would go and look for him because Sherlock had a case where this call girl was being blackmailed and he had to go by himself. That was a big fat fucking lie - he was obviously going to see her for a shag. John probably knew about it and that’s why he was at Baker Street but was covering up for Sherlock. It all makes sense now.”  
  
“Minty, I think you should at least try to sleep for tonight and then speak to Sherlock in the morning. I think you’ve had a terrible shock and you’re climbing the walls, God knows I would be too.”  
  
“I can’t even stand to think about him, Mum. I feel like everything’s falling apart. Serves me right for being too happy. Mum, could I come home please?”  
  
“I don’t think you should run away from this Minty.”  
  
“Mum, I’m not, I’m really not. But I can’t stand being in the flat myself as it just reminds me too much of us. I don’t know what to do. Help me.”  
  
Helen thought. Minty was Bipolar and the last time Sherlock split up with her, it ended up with Minty being admitted to the Royal Edinburgh Hospital after taking an overdose. If Minty was at home she could be looked after. Minty sounded very vulnerable and frightened.  
  
“Of course you can, flower. You can fly up or get the train and just let me know where you will be getting into and when and I’ll meet you. I think you should phone someone to let them know where you’re going to be, what about Molly?”  
  
“Okay, I’ll phone Molly. Mum…my head’s spinning. I can’t believe all this.”  
  
“I know, I know. Phone Molly, try to get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow. Macaroni cheese for tea tomorrow?”  
  
Minty smiled crookedly. “Please.”  
  
“Night night, wee flower. Love you.”  
  
Minty ached, suddenly desperately homesick. Oh good old Mum. “Love you too Mum” she whisperered. “Bye.”  
  
While she had been talking to her Mum, she had heard her phone beep. She unlocked it, slightly frightened of who it was. She really couldn’t bear any contact from Sherlock whatoever.  
  
 **JUST BEEN TO THE STRICT MACHINE’S HE WAS THERE BUT ISN’T NOW WILL CONTACT LESTRADE IN THE MORNING IF SHERLOCK DOESN’T TURN UP DON’T WORRY JOHN X**  
  
“Aye, that’s what you say, you lying cunt” Minty muttered and she phoned Molly.  
  
Molly had just got into her bed and had snapped the switch on her bedside light off. Toby was curled up on her pink duvet and his head shot up, ears twitching at the unexpected noise. She sat up sighing.  
   
“Hello?”  
  
“Molly, it’s Minty. I’m really sorry for phoning you so late but I had to speak to you - “  
  
Minty’s voice started to break and Molly felt herself jolt awake.  
  
“Minty’s it’s fine. You sound really upset. Tell me what‘s wrong?”  
  
“Molly…it’s Sherlock. He’s done the dirty on me…oh shit….”  
  
Minty sobbed all over again and Molly waited for her to calm down, alarmed and once Minty could speak she explained what happened in fits and bursts.  
  
“I can’t believe he would be nasty enough to do that, but then again he can be really hurtful. I should know, he’s been pretty hateful to me in the past. I told you about that time he started analysing me in from of everyone when I got dressed up for Christmas drinks. You both seemed so happy.”  
  
“We were! I just don’t get it either. I mean, last night he walked me home after the book launch, he got a bit fresh to say the least on the way back and this morning it was the same and he said he had some potential cases so he went to Baker Street. It all seemed fine. And I check my e-mail and I got a porn movie starring Sherlock in it. JESUS.”  
  
“Minty, would you mind if I saw it? I know you say it’s Sherlock, but I think someone had better make sure?”  
  
“Would you mind?”  
  
“It’s not exactly what I would like to watch this late at night but if it helps, I will.”  
  
“Molly, you’re fabby.”  
  
“Thanks honey. I’ll go and get my laptop. I‘ll phone you back.”  
  
They both went and got their laptops and soon Minty’s forwarded e-mail zipped through the ether to Minty who had put her pink and white spotted dressing gown on over her Hello Kitty sleep shirt. She opened up Hotmail and saw Minty’s e-mail address scottishgreendragonlady@yahoo.co.uk. Molly hesitated apprehensive about what she might see and guiltily looking forward to finally seeing Sherlock naked…she had longed to see that. Bad Molly! She composed herself and clicked on the link. Her eyes rounded as she watched. She immediately recognised the woman - THE WOMAN. Oh dear God, so she was back then and Sherlock couldn’t resist. Poor Minty. Molly had watched porn before - she had furtively Googled some to see what it was like once and then ashamed had never done it since - but seeing a friend being screwed - there was no other word for it as there was no affection involved - felt like a real invasion of privacy. It was definitely Sherlock but there was something a bit odd about it all.  
  
“Minty, I hate to tell you this but that’s Irene Adler. I don’t know if Sherlock told you but - “  
  
“Aye he did. Oh Christ, then I’m well fucked. I can’t compete with the likes of her.”  
  
“Minty, you’re absolutely gorgeous, don’t be silly.”  
  
“She’s some super groomed tart and I’m…me. I was just saying to John this afternoon that I was scared that Sherlock would get bored with me and I was right, it’s happened. I just didn’t expect it to be quite this soon.”  
  
“Minty, listen to me. When you were watching that video, did you notice that Sherlock didn’t really seem to be…well responding to her. I can’t think of any other way to put it. He didn’t seem to be enjoying it or anything. What’s he like when you and him were, you know? I’m sorry if that’s personal?”  
  
Minty’s voice was hoarse. “He loved sleeping with me, absolutely loved it. He’s  really good in bed actually. They say it’s the quiet ones you watch, eh? Honestly, he’s great. I loved it. He loved it. And now I’ll never have him again.”  
  
Minty was doubled up sobbing wildly, dropping the phone and Molly’s eyes teared up with her.  
  
Minty calmed down and picked up the phone. Molly had been patiently waiting for her and was rubbing Toby’s head who was loudly purring.  
  
“Sorry, Moll. Is that Toby I hear?”  
  
“Yes! How are you doing?”  
  
“Bit better, feel really sicky though. And drained. I bet my eyes look like corned beef by now with all the crying.”  
  
“As I was saying, Sherlock didn’t look as if he was enjoying it and that doesn’t fit in what you’ve just told me. It’s a bit strange really. And when I think back to how happy you both were at your hand fasting…I just don’t get it.”  
  
“I don’t either. Everything was fine this morning and now it’s all went to shit because he couldn’t keep his dick in his boxers. Molly, I’m going to go back home to Edinburgh for a bit. I’m not sure how long for. I just can’t bear being in my flat right now.”  
  
“Are you alright by yourself tonight? You can come round here if you like. You can have the couch?”  
  
“Molly, you are _awesome_. I might do. All I can see is everything that reminds me of Sherlock and it’s too painful. I’ll leave for Edinburgh first thing, I’ll check train times and all that when I get to yours.  Do you honestly not mind?”  
  
“No, you’d do the same for me.”  
  
“You know I would. I’ll call for a taxi and pack some stuff. Thanks mate.”  
  
“See you soon. I’ll make hot chocolate, bye bye.”  
  
Minty concentrated on packing some essentials in her army bag for heading home and bathed her sore eyes in cold water. She felt like something Toby dragged in. She went back into the living room and the portrait of Sherlock she drew mocked her. Enraged, she tore it off the wall and threw it, smashing the glass into tiny pieces.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
  
Minty’s eyes opened and they tracked, momentarily disoriented then a fresh assault of grief hit her hard and the tears shone. She lay staring up at Molly’s ceiling from a sleeping bag on her couch, picking apart the distressing events of the last few hours apart and wondering anew what she could have done to prevent Sherlock straying…but there was nothing. Sherlock - until yesterday - appeared to have been utterly besotted with her. Hell, he LOVED that corset and even suggested tying her up which she was very much up for. She rubbed her eyes which stung from lack of sleep and all the crying. Thank God she was going back home for a bit. She had packed a week’s worth of clothes and had her laptop so her immediate needs were covered. She slowly sat up and rubbed at the crick at the back of her neck. Being lanky really didn’t agree with sleeping on sofas. Still in the sleeping bag, she swung her legs off the sofa and sat up. She was tugging the sleeping bag off when Molly appeared carrying Toby.  
  
“Morning” Molly said hesitantly, gauging Minty’s mood and taking in the dark circles under her eyes and the white face, knew that Minty had hardly slept.  
  
“Morning, pal” Minty said quietly. “Morning Toby. Would he like a cuddle off Auntie Minty?” Minty REALLY didn’t want to speak or even look at anyone but she didn’t want to be grumpy to Molly who had been incredibly kind to her.  
  
“I’m sure he would. Here you go.” Molly kissed Toby’s head and passed him to Minty who hugged and nuzzled him, Toby purring along rustily. “I’ll be out the door in about half an hour, maybe 40 minutes for work, I can leave you a key and you can let yourself out if you like?”  
  
“No, that’s fine. I’ll have a wee shower then leg it. I want to go home to Edinburgh so bad now. I just need to get my head together…I just can’t understand any of this…we seemed great yesterday. _Jesus._ Do you want me to make breakfast? I don’t mind. I couldn‘t eat anything.”  
  
“No, you’re my guest. At least have a cup of milky coffee?”  
  
“Alright MUM. Can I use your bathroom? I’ll just be 10 minutes.”  
  
“Help yourself. Have you heard from Sherlock at all?”  
  
“I switched my phone off. I’d better see I suppose.”  
  
Minty picked her phone off the floor, Toby jumped off her knee and ran into the kitchen and Minty switched it on, steeling herself but there was just a text from John.  
 **  
STILL NO SIGN OF SHERLOCK. HAVE YOU HEARD ANYTHING? XX**  
  
“John’s saying no sign of him. In other words, he’s back at Baker Street.”  
  
“I don’t think John’s really a liar though.”  
  
“But he would cover for Sherlock if he had to. I mean…you would for me, right?”  
  
Molly nodded. “You know I would.”  
  
“Well then. Hell mend the pair of them. I’ll go and shower. Did you say you left me a towel last night?”  
  
“Yes, it’s sitting on the top of the cistern.”  
  
“Cheers love. You’re brilliant by the way.”  
  
Molly flushed, pleased. “Thanks. You will get through this…whatever happens.”  
  
Molly nodded and disappeared.  
  
In a lacklustre hotel room on the other side of London a fully clothed man opened his eyes and blinked as they slowly came into focus. He ached all over and made a sound of disgust as he ran his tongue over his teeth. His mouth tasted foul. What the Hell was he doing here? His head pounded and he felt dizzy. He gently touched his face and he yelped as it felt swollen. He slowly moved his limbs one by one. No broken bones at least. He sat up, then lay down again as the room was spinning and closed his eyes. In a minute, he would find his phone - if it wasn’t stolen - and phone John. He lay perfectly still, attempting to get into his Mind Palace to recall what happened before he passed out but his normally highly responsive mind was foggy. He swore and then concentrated on slowly sitting up and then standing. This made his head spin and he stood while the dizziness faded. He saw that his jacket was neatly folded on a purple upholstered chair next to a table so he slowly made his way to it. Thankfully his mobile was in a pocket but it was a dead as a Dodo. Inconvenient.  
  
While Sherlock was figuring out where he was and what had happened, John called Minty but got no answer. He had a terrible night’s sleep worrying about Sherlock and sat at the table at 221B Baker Street bleary and stressed in his t-shirt and baggy pyjama pants, sipping on a very strong coffee. He had wanted to ask Minty if she thought he should call Lestrade but decided he would risk it anyway.  
  
Greg Lestrade had just arrived for another day at work and was finishing off a Krispy Kreme doughnut for breakfast along with a Starbuck’s latte at his desk when his mobile rang. John Watson? That meant something Sherlock related and Greg wondered if it was slightly too early in the morning for that sort of thing. With an exasperated sigh he took the call.   
  
“Lestrade.”  
  
“Morning Lestrade, it’s John Watson. I’m sorry to bother you but I - we - have a bit of a problem.”  
  
“What sort of problem?”  
  
“Sherlock  went out on a case yesterday afternoon and hasn’t come back. I’ve tried to contact him and I’ve had no answer.”  
  
“This is all I bloody need. Where was Sherlock going?”  
  
Sally Donovan came into the room clutching some files and her ears immediately pricked up when Sherlock was mentioned. With any luck, he had fell into an industrial meat mincer. She hovered, ever hopeful that The Freak had got himself into an extremely fine mess.  
  
“A call girl called the Strict Machine is being blackmailed and he was asked to go to her place of work as she wanted him to be discreet. I stayed at Baker Street.”  
  
“He’s more likely finally worked out how to use his wedding tackle. I really wouldn’t worry” Lestrade laughed.   
  
John pondered on whether to mention that Sherlock’s illicit wife was going out of her mind with worry - come to mention it, why hadn’t he heard from Minty this morning? Was Sherlock with her?    
  
I wouldn’t normally be too worried either but Sherlock’s sister Minty is very worried and has been climbing the walls. Sherlock and her are pretty close.”  
 _  
Yup, that covers that one off neatly._  
  
“I didn’t know he had a sister?”  
  
“Oh God, so there’s yet another Holmes freak is there?” Sally wore her best I-hate-Sherlock-And-I-Wish-He-Would-Completely-Fuck-Up-And-Prove-Me-Right face.  
  
“Half-sister. She’s from Edinburgh but she lives in Camden. She’s an artist and she’s just as smart as the other Holmes’ but swears a lot more.”  
  
“Shut up Donovan. Right, tell me where he was and I’ll send someone round and keep an eye on the situation.”  
  
John gave the address and then saw that there was a strange number trying to call his mobile.  
  
“Lestrade, can I call you back? Someone is trying to phone  and I don‘t recognise the number, might be him. ”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
John cancelled Lestrade and picked up A.Nonymous.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“John? It’s me.”  
  
“Sherlock, _where the Hell are you?”  
_  
“I’m not altogether sure.”  
  
“Are you alright? You sound…a bit disorientated.”  
  
“I ache all over and my face hurts like it’s been slapped repeatedly. My head aches and I can’t think straight. It took me five minutes to remember your mobile number, mine is dead. I appear to be in a hotel, possibly Premier Inn judging by the colour scheme. I don’t know how I got here John and this annoys me.”  
  
The doctor in John automatically took over.  
  
“Have you been or feel sick at all? Any flashing lights before your eyes, sensitivity to bright light, fainting? Do you think anything is broken?”  
  
“I feel a bit dizzy and I have the mother of all headaches, slightly nauseous. I don’t think anything is broken. I feel like I’m a bit hungover although I’m fairly sure that I haven’t drunk anything.“  
  
Had Sherlock been drugged then assaulted? John didn’t want to worry Sherlock unduly at the moment. The main priority was to find him then phone Minty.  
  
Realising that Sherlock was unusually dull witted, possibly from being doped, John took control.  
  
“We need to figure out where you are. Is there anything in the room to say what Premier Inn you are in?”  
  
Sherlock’s gaze fell on a folder on the desk next to the room’s phone and he opened it, flipping through the brochures.  
  
“Leicester Square.”  
  
“Good. Go and open your room door and get the room number. Take it steady.”  
  
Sherlock put the receiver down and slowly, pausing for his head to spin, made his way to the door and opened it. He walked like an old  arthritic man back to the phone and picked the receiver up.  
  
“Room 315.”  
  
“I’m on my way.”  
  
“Minty…tell her I’m alright. She will be worried.”  
  
“I’ll phone her right now.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
For speed John texted Lestrade.  
 **  
SHERLOCK HAS PHONED ME OFF TO GET HIM.**  
  
John phoned Minty and was surprised to get through to her voicemail.  
  
Her chirpy Edinburgh accent greeted him. _  
  
“Hey, it’s Araminta Holmes-Mackenzie. I either can’t take your call right now or can’t be bothered. You know what to do. I‘ll phone you back.”_  
  
“Minty, it’s John. Sherlock has phoned me, he’s alright but I think he might have got into a bit of trouble. I’m off to get him now, he‘s in the Premier Inn at Leicester Square and doesn‘t know how he got there. He told me to phone you.”  
  
When Minty retrieved her message she had just got on the 9:30 train from King’s Cross to Edinburgh Waverley and was making her way through the First Class carriage. She found a window seat that was a table with a sole seat facing her. If she was in there, she was less likely to get pestered and to Hell with the cost. She put her laptop bag on the overhead rack and her rucksack at her feet. She flipped up the hood on her hoodie and turned her face to the window so that her silent tears would be hidden. She toyed with taking her Anti-Wedding ring off but couldn’t bring herself to do it.  
 _  
Oh God…it hurts. All she wanted was for her and Sherlock to finally be happy._


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
  
  
John rapped on the hotel room door and called “Sherlock, let me in.”  
  
Sherlock slowly walked to the door and let John in.  
  
“I’m glad to see you, I feel terrible. Did you phone Minty?”  
  
“Yes, and I left a message on her voicemail. It’s not like her to have her phone off, especially when she doesn’t know where you are.”  
  
“We can go to Camden, she’ll be at home waiting.”  
  
“I should check you over. Can you remember anything at all?”  
  
“I remember seeing the Strict Machine and after that nothing until I woke up. You don’t have to check me over, I’ll be fine.”  
  
“You’re not fine and I’m a doctor, it’s what I do. Sit on the bed. And stop rolling your eyes.”  
  
John took Sherlock’s pulse, looked in his eyes, told him to say ahhhh, manipulated his limbs, told him to take his purple shirt off and then whistled.  
  
“There’s a needle prick, here.” John touched Sherlock’s upper arm and Sherlock winced. “Someone has injected you and drugged you, but why? The needle appears to have gone in with some force as well. And you’ve been slapped around the face and there’s a fair bit of bruising on your chest.”  
  
“I feel a bit tender in the groin area as well.”  
  
“This happened when you were at the Strict Machine’s. Think hard Sherlock. Can you remember anything?”  
  
Sherlock yelled in John’s face.  
 _  
“I can’t remember a thing! Not a thing! My memory has gone, John! Have you any idea how vulnerable I feel at the moment? I rely on my mind, on my senses and I don’t have full capacity!”_  
  
“Alright, alright, calm down. We’ll get you back to Camden and you can rest until you begin to recover.”  
  
Sherlock put his shirt back on. “I need to see Minty, back to normality.” he said in a quiet voice. “Sorry.”  
  
“And she needs to see you. Come on, I’ll phone a taxi. Have you used the toilet yet?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“We should take some of your urine to get tested to see what drugged you. I imagine you will have a container for samples on you?”  
  
Sherlock yawned. “Naturally. In my jacket pocket.”  
  
John found it and handed it to him.  
  
Sherlock used the toilet and came back into the room, perturbed.  
  
“My genitals are very bruised and tender. John, what the _Hell_ has happened to me?”  
  
John took the sample. “Unil you can remember exactly what happened, God knows but someone has doped you and beat the shit out of you. And I think it‘s related to the Strict Machine.”  
  
Sherlock closed his eyes, head thumping again. “I need Minty.”

 

The taxi pulled up on Camden high street and John helped Sherlock out of the taxi as his gait was both stiff and awkward and let them into the flat.  
  
Sherlock narrowed his eyes and grew still, eyes darting in the small hallway. “There’s something wrong.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“I don’t know but there’s been a disturbance in here. Let’s go into the living room.”  
  
John helped Sherlock into the living room and both of them stopped as John’s trainer crunched on broken glass. He bent down and picked up Minty’s drawing of Sherlock in bed.  
  
“There’s no sign of a break in. What’s this doing on the floor?”  
  
“Go into the studio and see if Minty’s laptop bag is there. She always keeps it beside the table.”  
  
“Okay.” John took a look in Minty’s studio and came back.  
  
“It’s not there.”  
  
Sherlock checked the bathroom and came back.  
  
“Her toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, shampoo and make up bag are missing as well as a packet of Tampax, her black rucksack and her Sophie Lancaster Foundation hoodie. She’s gone.”  
  
Sherlock sat down on the sofa bed , rested his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers. John stood and watched him warily. Quiet, ill Sherlock+Missing Minty=TROUBLE.  
  
“The framed intimate portrait of me she drew is on the floor, clearly flung there in a temper. She has left our home, the home we bought together. When I last saw her she was happy. We had fantastic sex yesterday morning. Something has gone seriously wrong since I left her here. From what I know about Araminta, she is remarkably accepting of my more outre personality traits so something has greatly upset her about me but what? I haven’t seen her to offend her this badly. How did she seem last night?”  
  
“Minty was fine. She ordered some Chinese for you to heat up after you got back and took the twenty quid you left out. She was pretty anxious because you didn’t text her back though but that wouldn‘t be enough to make her leave, I wouldn‘t think. Where would she go?”  
  
“Edinburgh. If she is that upset, she would want to see Helen, they are very close. John, please phone her on your phone and give the phone to me. I need to speak to her. Could you make me some tea please, I’m terribly thirsty?”  
  
John selected Minty’s number and handed the mobile to Sherlock.   
  
“Be nice.”   
  
John left him to it but ensured he was in full earshot.  
  
Minty was on the train eating her complimentary cheese and tomato croissant  and drinking her filter coffee in First Class when her mobile rang. It was John. She let it ring three times while she emptied her mouth and decided if taking the call was a good idea. Probably not, but at least she could tell John to tell Sherlock to fuck off.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Minty, it’s me. My own phone is dead. What’s happened? I’m at the flat and clearly you are upset and you have left the flat. I deserve to know why so don’t even think about hanging up.”  
  
Minty found she was shaking and fresh tears rolled down her face. She couldn’t yell abuse at him without causing a scene.  
  
“You’ve got a cheek” she said flatly. “You know fine well what’s happened.”  
  
“Araminta, don’t play games. Whatever I have done to you tell me so I can attempt to defend myself although I can’t for the life of me think what I could’ve possibly done. I didn’t come home last night because I suspect I’ve been drugged and attacked. I woke up in a strange hotel room and I have no idea how I got there. I’m also sorry if I didn’t let you know where I was - I couldn’t. So, enough of this nonsense. Come home.”  
  
“Nonsense?” Minty bellowed this and her fellow passengers looked at her disapprovingly over their newspapers, Kindles and laptops. She mouthed sorry.  
  
“Sherlock, you have sent me a video of some slagbitchwhore bouncing up and down on your cock. Some woman who isn’t me. If you were bored with being my husband, all you had to do was tell me like a grown up and not do…this.” She hissed this down the phone, shaking and crying quietly.   
  
“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, Araminta.”  
  
“Don’t lie to me. It was sent from your e-mail address. God, you are such a cunt.”  
  
“I have never, ever lied to you. When I last saw you yesterday we had just made love and we were very happy. Do you honestly think I would sleep with another woman and send you the evidence when I have you? I know I have few social niceties but even I know that would be cruel beyond belief. For God‘s sake, I love you.”  
  
“You must be suffering from amnesia then. Check your sent items you prick. I’m going to my Mum’s because right now I can’t even bear to be in the same city as you.”  
  
Minty hung up and ran to the toilet, locked it and sat and uncontrollably cried. She had finally witnessed what a cold hearted, damaged and brutal individual he could be and that was that as far as she was concerned. Oh, well, better sooner rather than later…oh Sherlock…how could you?  
  
  
Sherlock held the mobile and started into space for a few moments in quiet disbelief.  
  
“John? As soon as I’ve had that tea, we need to go to Baker Street to check my e-mail. I appear to have broken my wife’s heart and I didn’t even know. What the Hell is going on?”


	10. Chapter 10

_Sherlock collapsed onto his back, eyes closed and mouth hanging open, oblivious to the world and that a woman had her left stiletto heeled boot firmly on his chest, surveying her prone victim with glee.  
  
“I’ve got you exactly how I want you gorgeous boy. Quiet, biddable and all mine to play with. Oh, I can hardly wait. Felicity?”  
  
Irene called on her personal assistant who had injected Sherlock and she came into the room, raising her eyebrows at Sherlock.  
  
“He’s out cold then?”  
  
“Absolutely. Can you call the removal men?”  
  
Felicity giggled “You ARE wicked. What do you have planned for him?”  
  
Irene tapped her nose. “Never you mind. I’m going to get rid of this disguise and this wig and dress to go out. Can you please get me another phial and syringe, a packet of condoms and some lubricant?”  
  
“Of course.” Felicity disappeared.  
  
Irene quickly changed into a demure black shift dress and her favourite Louboutins, grabbed her whip and lightly stroked Sherlock up and down. She was already highly aroused at the thought of what she was going to do to him later. Felicity appeared with a black vanity case and handed it to Irene.  
  
“Thank you. Are our arangements in place?”  
  
“Yes, the room is booked and the staff are instructed to turn a blind eye.”  
  
“I should think they will. The amount of business I conduct there is considerable and my tip was suitably lavish. Plus, I know what the manager likes.”  
  
Irene leaned to stroke Sherlock’s cheekbones delicately with her whip then abruptly slapped the right. Sherlock continued to lie motionless.  
  
“I’ve longed for this man. The only man I have every truly wanted. Women can’t quite compare to him…brains and beauty. I want to be the Woman Who Beats You, Fucks You and Possesses You.”  
  
Irene paused. The beauty of this man suddenly overwhelmed her. The soft dishevelled dark curls, the pale skin, the softly pink cupid bow lips, the perfectly straight nose and above all, the cheekbones that she had said in a moment of bravado that she would cut her hands on. She reached down, palmed them over and sighed with pleasure.  
  
She momentarily remembered the girl in Jim’s video and her brow wrinkled. No competition whatsoever as far as she was concerned and Minty faded, the fleeting guilt gone. She had been grateful that he had helped her escape by making a fake beheading video but she had never got to grips with the fact that he had never made an advance towards her even though she practically laid herself on a plate for him. The seductive advances, the innuendo laden texts had all fell quite flat. More to the point, as a lesbian, she had never truly wanted any other man sexually or intellectually. Sure, she could fake desire and orgasms for her job but that was it - it was all faked. Only the brief encounters with women she would orchestrate would satisfy her. Sherlock was **different**. And if the only way she could have him was by drugging him then she would do it. She could not bear anyone rejecting her as it meant that she had failed. She was sure that Sherlock would understand that at least. Wouldn’t he? He was a conundrum. How far had it gone with the half sister? Lust? Flirting? Sex? He had once said that he understood love and this must be why. Oh complicated, contrary, mercurial man. I MUST possess you.  
  
There was a knock on the door and two burly shaven haired 6 foot plus men in black suits entered the room.  
  
“Thank you for coming, gentlemen. I will pay you in kind if you would care to make appointments with my PA.”  
  
They nodded and one picked up Sherlock under his shoulders and the other by his legs and carried him out the room. There was a black people carrier with blacked out windows waiting outside. Irene followed with Felicity carrying the vanity case.  
  
Irene eleganty got into the front passenger seat and Felicity gave her the case.  
  
“Enjoy.”  
  
Irene smirked. “Darling, I am going to savour every last moment.”_


	11. Chapter 11

  
“You need to go and have some sleep, you’ll feel better.”  
  
John had picked up the glass from the floor, put it in the bin and called a taxi to get Sherlock safely back to Baker Street. John was concerned about Sherlock as he was very withdrawn and every movement was shown as pain on his face. His head drooped in the back of the taxi and he drifted into a nap. John called Mrs Hudson.  
  
Mrs Hudson was dusting her way round 221B Baker Street listening to Radio 2 on her Robert Radio that she had brought from her flat specially. Sherlock had told and shown her that she could listen to the radio on Sky but that was all a bit too much of a fuss and she could never remember how to do it. Dean Martin was telling her that she would dance down the street and clouds would be at her feet but the only clouds she saw at that moment were dust motes as she fluttered her duster and tutted at Sherlock’s mess yet again. Her 11 year old Nokia rang a simple ring ring. Dropping the duster on the living room table she picked it up. Oh, it was John.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Mrs Hudson, do you have any painkillers in the house? I’ve ran out and Sherlock’s been attacked, he didn’t come home last night and he’s in pain.”  
  
“What has he done _now?_ Oh, dear. Is it very bad?”  
  
“He’s rather bruised and beaten up. I think he’s been drugged. I collected him from a hotel room in the city and he’s fell fast asleep in the taxi. Oh, and Minty’s buggered off back to Edinburgh because she says Sherlock sent her a video of him shagging some woman.”  
  
“I think I’ve heard enough” said Mrs Hudson faintly. “Why would he do that? Minty must be ever so upset.”  
  
“He says he didn’t. It’s all a bit of a mess. I just need to get him home in one piece and hope nothing else goes wrong.”  
  
“I’ve got some Ibruprofen  and some of that gel that you rub on if you’ve got aches and pains, that might help. I’ll go and get it.”  
  
“That gel probably has Ibruprofen in it so you have to be careful with the dosage but thanks, it’ll do. There’s no point prescribing anything.”  
  
“John…John? Who are you speaking to?”  
  
Sherlock’s eyes has opened and he looked blearily around him, still befuddled.  
  
“Mrs Hudson. It’s fine. Just get some sleep.”  
  
“Minty…”  
  
“We’ll sort that out later, just close your eyes.”  
  
Sherlock fought against fatigue, eyelids fluttering but the need for sleep won and he started to softly snore.  
  
“How long will you be until you get here?”  
  
“Not long. I think I should put him into bed and let him sleep whatever he’s been given off. I’m going to phone Molly at St Barts and see if she can fast track the urine sample that he’s given me. That should tell us if he has been drugged.”  
  
“Are you going to go round to St Barts?”  
  
“If Molly can do it, yes. I’m sure she will. Would you be able to keep an eye on him when I’m gone?”  
  
“Of course I can dear.”  
  
“Thanks. I’ll see you in a bit.”  
  
At Baker Street John gently roused Sherlock, helped him out of the taxi and half walked half hefted him up the stairs, shouting on Mrs Hudson as they went. She appeared at the top of the stairs and they guided Sherlock into a chair. His eyes were half open and he shook his head slightly, fogged and bewildered.  
  
“John, I feel terrible. All I want to do is sleep. You’re a doctor, please make me feel better at once.”  
  
This was delivered tersely and John grinned. If he was being irritable then there wasn’t too much wrong with him.   
  
“I’m going to get you some pain killers and Mrs Hudson has made you a nice cup of tea. You can have that then you’re going to sleep whatever you’ve taken off. I’m going to go to St Barts with the urine sample.”  
  
“I’ll come with you.”  
  
“Sherlock, you can barely keep your eyes open, don’t be silly.”  
  
“But Minty…Minty is in Edinburgh and I’m here. I NEED to get her back.”  
  
“You’re no use to anyone in that state. I want you to go to bed and sleep. Mrs Hudson is going to stay here and look after you while I’m gone. ”  
  
Mrs Hudson came into the living room with a china cup of tea and handed it to Sherlock who nearly spilled it. She guided it to his mouth and he sipped. She then handed him two small pills which he took, washed down with tea.   
  
“There we are, down the hatch” Mrs Hudson clucked. Bedtime for you, young man.”  
  
He protested and complained that of course he was fine, he wasn’t a bloody invalid and all this was a fuss over nothing and why wasn’t anyone concentrating on getting his wife back home but then acquiesced as his legs buckled. John helped him into his bedroom and hovered as Sherlock undressed, put his pyjamas on and got into bed.   
  
John tucked the wine coloured duvet around Sherlock.  
  
“I’m going to go to St Barts now to see Molly. I know she won’t mind testing your urine for us and once you’ve rested a bit and maybe eaten something, you might feel more like yourself and maybe your memory will come back. Mrs Hudson is going to stay in case you need anything, alright?”  
  
“I’m not an invalid” Sherlock half-spoke half yawned.  
  
“I know, but still. Do as you’re told for once and sleep.”  
  
“Minty…I want her back…”  
  
John looked down at his old friend and saw that Sherlock’s eyes were fully open and full of hurt.   
  
“We’ll sort it out, don’t worry” he whispered. “Now, got to sleep, you’ll feel better.”  
  
Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes. John watched him for a little while, seeing him grimace in pain as he turned over.  
  
 _Sherlock eventually started to have strange, vivid dreams in which he watched himself and then starred as himself. It came and went, like tuning in a radio. He lay on his back, on his stomach, curled up, on and on. He couldn’t settle as his sleeping mind desperately tried to make sense of his abduction and assault. The duvet slid off him.  
  
He was carried by two men and he could hear talking, the clattering of cutlery and raised voices, a landline phone ringing. Bump, bump bump up some steps and the soft hiss and clunk as a lift door closed with the upward propulsion. He tried to open his eyes but they wouldn’t obey and stayed firmly shut.   
  
He heard the murmuring of gruff male voices and he was manoeuvred and laid onto a bed. He lay there for what seemed like an age, lost in the drug that he was injected with. Finally a door opened and the staccato tap tap of  heels grew closer. The soft slither and rasp of silk sliding off skin onto the floor. The mattress sinking as another body’s weight is added to it.   
  
Sherlock’s mind stilled. For now. His body relaxed and he deeply slept._  
  
John’s hand cradled the urine sample in his jacket pocket protectively as he strode quickly through the white walled corridors to Molly’s Pathology department. He swung the double doors open with a firm bang and saw Molly in her white at her lab bench peering at a glass sample, holding it up to the light.  
  
She turned and smiled as she saw John and then her smile lessened as she remembered why Minty had crashed at her flat the night before and that Sherlock wasn’t with John.  
  
“Hi, what are you doing here? Where’s Sherlock?”  
  
“That’s why I’m here. Sherlock is in bed sleeping. I found him in a Premier Inn beaten up and probably drugged. Minty’s dumped him because she says he sent her a video of him having sex with another woman as well. She’s gone home to Edinburgh.”  
  
Molly went pink and twitched. “I saw the video. Minty phoned me last night, she was very distressed and forwarded me the e-mail. It was a bit…embarrassing. She came over to stay with me because she was really, really upset about it all, I know I would be if it was me. The other woman is Irene Adler.”  
  
“What?”  John was incredulous. “You’re joking? Sherlock faked her death and helped her escape when she was at real risk. All her normal connections and protection was gone. She knew too much and was a liability.”  
  
“No, I’m not. Have you seen it?”  
  
“No, not yet.”  
  
“I can send it to you if you want. I can’t open it on my computer at work as IT would block it but I can forward it to you on my phone.”  
  
“Would you? I can look at it before Sherlock wakes up.”  
  
“You should’ve heard her when I told her….I wish I hadn’t but I wanted to tell her the truth. She sounded  so…broken, not like Minty at all. I don’t know any other way of putting it. She said that she didn’t stand a chance. They were so in love…it’s heartbreaking. I want to make it all better for them. I used to have a bit of a crush on Sherlock - “  
  
“We really hadn’t noticed.”  
  
This made Molly go redder and John laughed.  
  
“ - but when you see them together they’re both so right for each other. I don’t believe for one minute Sherlock planned to cheat on her. I did say he wasn’t really, you know, looking like he was enjoying it. He just lay there.”  
  
“That makes sense.”  
  
“What does?”  
  
“He’s been drugged and he’s very bruised. If it was Adler, then she’s well and truly whipped him into shape and drugged him. She did it before.”  
  
“She did?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
John handed Molly the sample.  
  
“I should have this ready for about 4. Do you want to come round for the results or I could e-mail them?”  
  
“E-mail them please. He will want to study them, no doubt.”  
  
“What about Minty? Are you going to show her the results so she’ll take Sherlock back?”  
  
“I’m not. He is. He just doesn’t know it yet.”  
  
Back at Baker Street Sherlock was restless again in sleep and sweating as he mumbled and turned, with strange dreams whirling in his head.   
  
“No….no….”  
  
 _A naked woman with alabaster skin and dark hair coiled up on her head straddled him and was slapping his cheekbones with her bare hands. She picked up the riding crop and violently slapped them.  
  
This made Sherlock open his eyes, just for a moment._  
  
He bolted upright., eyes wide open, drenched in sweat and trembling.  
  
“JOHN! I KNOW WHO IT WAS!”


	12. Chapter 12

 When John got back, Sherlock was sitting in his pyjamas slowly and wincingly eating a steaming bowl of cream of chicken soup at the table with Mrs Hudson who was sipping tea and nibbling a Hob Nob.   
  
“Do I really have to eat this?”  
  
“It’ll help you feel better. Now eat it up, like a good boy.”  
  
“You’re not my mother.”  
  
“I can still give you a clip round the ear.”  
  
Sherlock scowled and spooned up more soup. He stopped when the bowl was three quarters empty and stared into space.  
  
Mrs Hudson took his bowl away, shaking her head slightly and was relieved to see John appear.  
  
“So you’re still in the land of the living are you? How are you feeling?”  
  
“I feel terrible, John. I still ache all over. I know who did it. I’ve remembered. My treacherous memory is still defying me but I have remembered a little.”  
  
“I know who it is too.”  
  
“How?” Sherlock raised his eyebrows. “You weren’t there.”  
  
“Molly’s watched the video, Minty forwarded it to her. She recognised - “  
  
“Adler.” Sherlock spat this out with contempt.  
  
“Quite. How the Hell is she  - “  
  
“I helped her escape and didn’t tell anyone. I shouldn’t have been swayed by her tears. I wish I’d let her be beheaded now.”  
  
“That’s a bit much dear” Mrs Hudson said, setting cups of tea before  Sherlock and John.   
  
“Is it? She is a spoiled selfish woman who thinks she can do as she likes just because she uses her body as a commodity and now she has taken Araminta, the only woman I have ever loved, away from me. I should’ve hacked her head off myself. I did not want her then and I do not want her now.”  
  
Sherlock banged his fist on the table with such violent force that both John and Mrs Hudson jumped and tea sloshed onto the table. Mrs Hudson wisely kept quiet and began to mop it up.  
  
“Molly is rushing through the tests on the urine sample and is emailing me the results which should be ready by this afternoon. She’s e-mailed me the video. I think we should watch it.”   
  
“I think I’ll go and do some housework and leave you both to it. It’s not the kind of thing I should be watching at my time of life. If you need anything, just shout up.”  
  
“Thanks for looking after Sherlock” John called after her.  
  
“You could’ve said thank you” John grumbled. Sherlock waved him away distractedly and continued to stare into space. He slowly rubbed his lower lip then swore under his breath.  
  
“You alright?”  
  
“My mind is still being stubbornly unresponsive. I really can’t remember any more than Adler. Please show me this video.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
John booted his laptop up, found Molly’s e-mail and opened the e-mail. His finger hovered over the left hand side of the mouse pad and he looked again at Sherlock,  thoroughly embarrassed by the situation and although he couldn’t quite bring himself to admit it to himself, scared that he might even get aroused by the sight of Adler naked and riding his best mate. Awkward.  
  
“Just do it, John.”  
  
He hit play and Sherlock remained impassive, only frowning a little as he thought deeply. John wanted the ground to swallow him up, willing the erection that was threatening to happen to sod off. He thought of Margaret Thatcher naked to wilt it which did the trick.   
  
The video finished. Sherlock was still thinking.  
  
“Well I don’t know about you but that was a bit awkward. Tea?”  
  
“Please.”  
  
John was desperate to leave Sherlock to it as he was cringing. Sherlock continued to sit perfectly still. There was no disgust, embarrassment, rage, denial….nothing. John wondered if he should be worried but decided probably not as Sherlock could be unpredictable. He brought two clean china cups into the living room and then fetched the tea pot.  
  
Finally Sherlock broke the strained silence.  
  
“I really can’t believe Minty is so upset over this. I am clearly non-responsive and Minty knows me well enough to know that I am not deriving any enjoyment from this whatsoever. I have been forced and am not an active participant therefore she can‘t possibly say that I am cheating on her. I never would.”  
  
“Are you having a laugh?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You beggar belief sometimes.”  
  
“Explain yourself please.”  
  
“Minty is a normal woman who loves her partner, you. Normal women, if they really love their partners, would be heartbroken and devastated upon seeing their partner being fucked by some other woman. If Minty was still in London you would be missing some teeth by now and Adler would be lying in a pool of her own blood, probably by your gun. I wouldn’t DARE do anything like that to Minty and not just because she’s taller than me - she’s got a very short fuse. In short, she is acting in a perfectly normal way. For her. If you want my advice - “  
  
“I don’t.”  
  
Ignoring him, John pressed on.  
  
“I would forward Minty the toxicology report as soon as we get it so she can read it for herself.”  
  
“I shouldn’t have to do that. My wife should trust me implicity.”  
  
John stood up.  
  
“Sherlock, all I can say is if I had a wife like Minty who is beautiful, intelligent, funny, kind and talented I’d crawl 100 miles over broken glass just to wank over her shadow and I‘d do anything to make her come back home.”  
  
John stormed out of the room, frustrated beyond belief.  
  
“John?”  
  
“JOHN!”  
  
Sherlock rubbed his eyes and yawned and looked at the door with dimmed eyes, torn between wishing to be right and doing the right thing.  
  
He missed her. Oh God, he needed her. He stroked his dragon ring on his right finger.  
  
“JOHN?”  
  
He came into the room, exasperated.  
  
“I’m sorry. You’re right. Let me have the results as soon as you get them, In the meantime, I rather need a wash. Araminta can probably smell me in Edinburgh.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

  
Later, in Edinburgh, Minty miserably trailed after Helen, her Mum, in Sainsbury’s who was pushing a trolley. Minty was and  polite noises at Helen’s stream of forced cheery chatter. Helen was privately very worried at Minty’s depressed state of mind and wanted to keep her occupied as much as possible. Minty had refused offers of boiled eggs on toast, home made lentil soup and toasted cheese  for lunch saying she couldn’t eat as her stomach was too tense. Helen brightly offered to take her to the supermarket to pick something that might tempt her into eating. So Minty’s head was bent, hoodie pulled up and hands stuck into her pockets, mostly looking at the floor and silently aching with deep emotional hurt. It was nearly 5pm and the shop was full of harassed looking parents with children in uniforms and office workers picking up something hassle free for tea. Every time a child came anywhere near Minty, she glared at them. Their random wails and tantrums were making her head ache. She really just wanted to go to bed and stay there, to neck a couple of sleeping tablets and to block out her personal horror that every fibre of her being was screaming SHERLOCK IS GONE. She was a gaping open wound of profound pain.

Again.  
  
“Now, what about a nice cake or pudding as a wee treat, flower? You can pick whatever you fancy.”    
  
“It’s your money, you can pick, Mum. Nothing with lemon in it though, lemon flavoured things taste weird, not like real lemon.”  
  
“That’s strange because you like lemonade.”  
  
“I know, but lemon’s too…lemony to be in sweet things. Too tart and sharp. It’s not right.”  
  
Encouraged by Minty actually engaging in normal conversation, Helen pressed on, swinging the trolley out from the condiments aisle to the chiller cabinet with cakes and pastries.  
  
Helen picked up a box with two apple turnovers with cream in it.   
  
“Reduced to clear to eat today, 50p, what do you think?”  
  
Minty nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”  
  
“I do love a bargain.”

Helen put the box carefully in the trolley. Minty’s phone rang and her stomach lurched instantly. Oh God not now. Not here.  
  
“Who’s that, sweetheart?”  
  
“Sherlock…it’s Sherlock. Oh God. What do I do?”  
  
Helen raised her eyebrows.  
  
“You do have to talk to him” she said in a low voice. “Go outside and speak to him there. I’ll go and pick some more milk up and bread and pay for all this while you’re doing that.”  
  
Freddie Mercury via the ringtone insistently reminded Minty that Sherlock was waiting. You’re My Best Friend. What a fucking joke.  
  
“Sherlock? What do you want? I’m in Sainsbury’s with Mum.”  
  
“Araminta, I was drugged. I have proof. I can prove - “  
  


“I’m going outside. I’ll phone you back in a minute.”  
  
Minty ran out of the store, nearly colliding with a small boy, calling “sorry” behind her to the Dad who bellowed “Look where you’re going you stupid bint”.   
  
With her heart in her mouth, she phoned Sherlock back who picked up immediately.  
  
“Thank you for phoning me back.”  
  
“Well?”  
  
Minty concentrated hard on not allowing her voice to shake and to appear strong when inside she was crumbling at his voice. He sounded very tired and there was even an edge of pain in his voice. She had to hold hard now.  
  
“Molly has had my urine tested and has e-mailed John the results. Irene Adler has injected me with Flunitrazepam, taken me to a hotel room, sexually assaulted beaten me and filmed the results so that you would think that I had cheated on you.”  
  
“Flunit-what?”  
  
“Flunitrazepam. The street name is Rohypnol.”  
  
“Bollocks.Very good, husband dearest. I know what I saw. She was fucking your bloody brains out. Well, you can have her. I’m done with you.”  
  
“Araminta, haven’t you listened to a single word I’ve said?”  
  
“I’ve listened to everything. That’s all a bit too convenient. I know you. You could easily falsify results, I wouldn’t put it past you to do that. You’re the kind of clever cheating arsehole that would do that. Have you any idea how shit I feel? I wanted us to work. I wanted us to be happy but on no, you had to get bored and have itchy feet and put it about - “

“Bored? I could never get bored of you. You’re very much mistaken.”  
  
“Am I? I wondered how long it would take before you’d tire of me, that you’d get bored because that’s what you do. You need change, continuous excitement. One day I knew you’d look at me, snoring on the pillow next to you and think that I was predictable because familiarly breeds contempt. It’s what happens in normal relationships.”  
  
“Araminta, I always knew you were stubborn but I also didn’t think you were stupid. I’m getting nowhere with this conversation. I’m going to forward the results to you and I hope you will grow up and stop acting like a spoilt child.”  
  
“FUCK YOU!”  
  
Minty screeched this down the phone and hung up, mouth wobbling and single tears sliding down her cheeks. She breathed deeply in and out and concentrated on not crumpling onto the pavement weeping. She kept glancing at the automatic doors of the supermarket, needing her Mum to get her out of here.

Soon enough the short, slightly plump and blonde form of her Mum came into sight pushing her laden trolley full of orange Sainsbury’s bags.   
  
“Everything alright, flower? Maybe not. What happened?”  
  
“He said that he’s been Roofied by that horrible Irene Adler bitch. Aye right then. He must think I button up the back.”  
  
“Do you mean drugged and date raped?”  
  
“I guess.”  
  
“Minty…that’s really not something you joke or lie about. What a horrible thing to happen to him. Who is Irene Adler, by the way?”  
  
Minty wiped her tears away. “She is a dominatrix that Sherlock apparently fancied and she had compromising  photos of someone in the Royal family on her BlackBerry. He had to get them off her and apparently she fancied him too even though she was a lesbian. He said that he didn’t do anything with her because…she wasn’t me. She was apparently staying over at Baker Street one time and she had his bed to herself.”  
  
Minty’s tears really began to fall.   
  
“Oh now now, come on, time to get you home” Helen soothed and pushed her trolley towards her silver Ford Focus. Minty silently followed, sniffing, pride dented and torn between wanting to believe him and wanting to be right. Helen wanted to get her home quickly and to get some food down her before she had a serious meltdown.  
  
“I think you should read the results and then sleep on it. You’ve got a habit of reacting before thinking things through Mint-Cake - “  
  
“MUUUUUUM! Don’t call me that!”

Helen laughed.  
  
“I rest my case. I really think you need to sleep on this. When you get the results, text Sherlock to say that you’re sorry for swearing and that you’ll reply tomorrow when you’ve had some rest.”  
  
Helen stopped pushing the trolley and turned to Minty.  
  
“You know I’ve never felt totally comfortable about your relationship with Sherlock for obvious reasons but in such a short time he’s made you so much happier than Alan ever did. Don’t be too hasty. There are times when I wish I had done more to keep Siger with me but I couldn’t.”  
Helen’s eyes misted and Minty hugged her.   
  


Helen’s eyes misted and Minty hugged her.   
  
“I know, Mum. You’re right, I’ll wait until tomorrow. I guess if me and Sherlock are meant to be, it’ll wait another day.”  
  
“Good girl. Will you eat your tea up?”  
  
“Mum, you’re making me sound like I’m still 3.”  
  
“You’re still my wee lassie, it’s a Mum thing. Let’s go home.”  
  
Later Minty booted up her laptop and she felt all prickly and uncomfortable as she saw the new e-mail from Sherlock with the attachment. The e-mail was simply titled Results.  
  
She couldn’t do it. She felt nauseous.  
  
I’M SORRY I SHOUTED AT YOU. I WILL LOOK AT YOUR E-MAIL TOMORROW. NOT FEELING GOOD TONIGHT. MINTY XX  
  
ARAMINTA, PLEASE LOOK AT THEM AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. I AM IMPATIENT TO GET YOU HOME. SH  
  
Sherlock threw an empty china cup at the wall.  
  
“Damn!”  
  
“Problem?”  
  
“Minty is being difficult and stubborn. She says she will not read the results until tomorrow.”  
  
“Any particular reason? I thought she would be desperate to get this cleared up.”  
  
“She’s not feeling good, quote unquote.”

“You can’t blame her. The last time you both split she took an overdose and I should imagine Helen is looking after her. She is pretty vulnerable, cut her some slack.”  
  
“Disappointing. Anyway, this calls for some drastic action. I will get Araminta back.”  
  
“Sherlock, don’t do anything stupid.” John was in High UH-OH alert mode.  
  
“You might call it stupid, I call it the final solution to my intractable problem.”

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

“You _seriously_ owe me for this.”  
  
John had his mobile phone in his hand and a seriously narked expression on his face, He was looking up at Sherlock who was smirking down at him.  
  
“Your trade off will be my happiness at being reunited with Minty and your sparring partner. Just phone Adler, please.”  
  
“Remind me what I have to say?”  
  
“That you are a wealthy client in urgent need of correction and you are prepared to pay handsomely for it. You require an urgent appointment.”

“Adler will check me out online. Have you thought of that?”  
  
“Of course. A Facebook page has already been set up for  Simon Howard, city stockbroker extraordinaire. He already  has 386 friends and status updates to indicate that he is a young Turk in the world of finance that likes to work and play hard. He has expensive hobbies and a weakness for fine champagne. He has a full social life but no special someone in his life. As a means of release from his working life he enjoys being chastised.”  
  
“How the HELL did you do that?”  
  
“You can fake anything if you are prepared to work out how. I found a program that helps set up fake pages. Do you know that there are roughly 80 million fake accounts? Of course the programme is highly illegal but there are ways and means of getting anything if you look for it hard enough.”  
  
“Oh course there is, oh God.”  
  
“Will you do it?”  
  
“ _Jesus Christ. Fine. I‘ll do it._ ”  
  
“Excellent.”  
  


“She might recognise my number or be able to trace it?”  
  
“There is a brand new SIM in your phone. John…I’m insulted that you would think I would leave that to chance. Even Anderson would think of that.”  
  
“You’ve fiddled with my phone? That’s just brilliant. Is nothing sacred?”  
  
“Your wife isn’t in Edinburgh and heartbroken.”  
  
“Alright, no need to guilt trip me.”  
  
“Merely stating a fact. Here’s your SIM.”  
  
John pocketed it.   
  
“So what do I ask for?”  
  
“Ask for a late night appointment, her website says she will do this by prior arrangement. As it is late night, you require a driver. Me. I have hired a car specially.”  
  
“Can I ask what you actually plan to do once you get there?”  
  
“Adler and I are going to have a talk. In private. Your job will to make sure that we are not disturbed. The result of which will make Araminta come home.”  
  
Sherlock’s tone of voice and the cold light in his eyes made John tense up. He didn’t think that Sherlock would deliberately choose to be violent towards a woman, but given the depth of his feelings towards Minty, anything was possible.  
  
“You’re not going to do anything _stupid_ are you?” He said this slowly and carefully to emphasise the point.  
  
“It depends what you define as stupid. The end result means that Araminta and I will be reunited so I wouldn’t for one moment call it stupid. Adler has had me abducted and sexually assaulted. She therefore will deserve everything that is coming to her.”  
  
And so,  at just before midnight, a silver BMW pulled up in front of The Strict Machine’s flat. A tall figure in black sunglasses and a designer black suit got out of the front driver’s side and walked round to open the left rear door. A short figure in a hastily bought black suit, dark purple shirt and black shoes polished to a gleaming shine got out. The driver  closed the door and stood at ease in front of the car, carefully watching John as he climbed the steps to the front door and rang the buzzer. The door opened and John went in. The figure in the black suit and sunglasses cleared the steps in a few bounds and came in as well.  
  
“What on earth…who are you? We were only expecting Mr Howard?”  
  
Sherlock took his sunglasses off.   
  
“I wasn’t expecting to be abducted and assaulted by Ms Adler. You know who I am, Felicity. Now be a good girl and fetch your mistress. Quickly.”  
  
She disappeared quickly, glad to get away from the tall man with TROUBLE gleaming in his eyes.   
  
Adler appeared, in her red wig and latex catsuit. Sherlock stepped forward and yanked her red wig off, throwing it down the corridor.  
  
“You don’t need that now, do you? I want to talk to you, Adler.”  
  
The Adler was spat out with considerable venom and she had a sick feeling in her stomach, but she concentrated on retaining her poise and aside from a sideways flick of her eyes, betrayed nothing. Her trademark scarlet lips curved into a false smile.  
  
“There was no need for the subterfuge, Sherlock darling. I knew you would come back for more. Felicity, who don’t you show John into the front room and offer him a drink while Sherlock and I catch up on old times.”


	15. Chapter 15

John was led off by Felicity while Sherlock followed Adler down the corridor to the same room where he was drugged. As she went, she pulled at the pins and clips holding her hair up and let it tumble down her back and thus done, swayed her hips as she strutted as if she was on an invisible catwalk. Sherlock knew fine well what she was doing and why. He read it as it was meant to be, a show of bravado and enticement. He had an image of Minty’s purple streaked hair tumbling down, his sweat cooling on her body, her smile warm and loving and his fingers musky with her juices. He breathed deeply and his mouth tightened. He had to keep her in mind. Araminta. Whatever it took. _Whatever_.  
  
Once alone in the room, Adler tried to pull Sherlock towards her but he pushed her away roughly and she staggered back three or four paces, alarmed.  
  
“I have not come here on some fanciful romantic pursuit Adler, so get that into your deluded, damaged brain at once. Tell me why you did it…no, I know why you did it. You are an overgrown spoilt child. You want what you can‘t have. You usually prefer women, nothing wrong with that, but men fail to arouse you even though you make a living having sex with them and acting out their sordid little fantasies. But suddenly I come into your life and you want me. There is something in me you find desirable and despite your best efforts - flirting, asking me repeatedly to dinner, meeting me and John naked in your battle dress - I reject you. You are used to men and women falling at your feet and you‘re stymied and fascinated at once. You find out about Araminta, my half sister, the love of my life, my wife in all but legality and realise that the only way to get me it to get at her. So you plot to entrap me, film the results and use my e-mail to send this to Araminta who is heartbroken and tells me our relationship is over. You once called me delusional and damaged. You are right because only Araminta, my special, precious, beautiful Minty, is good enough to be my mate as she is blood related and shares my breeding. I am damaged because she is the only woman I can ever love. You are delusional because you think because you can have me and damaged because only someone who has no sense of right and wrong and uses sex as a weapon could do something like this And they call me a sociopath, you devious bitch. You are going to help me win Minty back.”  
  
“Why should I do that? What you are doing is sleeping with your half sister which is illegal. You‘re disgusting.”  
  
“So is kidnap and sexual assault. We’re even. And how did you even find out about Minty? There are a tiny handful of people who know….of course. Mycroft interrogated Moriarty and told him, and he told you to finish me off, the solution to the final problem. And to think I helped you escape. How ungrateful. What you will do is you will personally record a message to Minty explaining what you did and why and I will show it to her. You will also apologise in your message.”  
  
“What if I don’t want to?”  
  
Sherlock stared at her with enough hatred to make her eyes well up and a lone tear trickled down her too-white face and her blood red  lips trembling. He pulled out his gun, pointed at her and fired. The bullet whizzed half a centimetre from her right cheekbone and she could feel the propulsion ruffle her hair. It smacked harmlessly into the wall.  
  
“Call that a warning nip. Now, get your laptop and do as you’re told.”  
  
John and Felicity ran into the room and saw Sherlock still pointing his gun at Adler.  
  
“Sherlock, I know you’re angry and rightly so, but shooting Adler isn’t going to help the situation. You won‘t be any good to Minty in custody.”  
  
“Felicity, fetch Adler’s laptop please. I won’t hurt her if she is a good girl. John, please go with her to make sure she doesn‘t call the police.”  
  
She disappeared, only too glad to get out of the room. John followed.  
  
“We didn’t actually have intercourse, did we?”  
  
“Of course we did. You watched the video. We were fantastic together.”  
  
“Oh Irene…you have just proved why you’re disappointingly ordinary and let your emotions get the better of you. You did not think this through.”  
  
Sherlock’s eyes flashed with spite and he continued, still pointing his gun.  
  
“You paid the hotel manager to keep quiet, I know that you’re a frequent flyer in there and you would pay him back with whatever seedy peccadillo he enjoys, I would say that he probably likes you to wear a strap-on. It was all going so well until you got me into the hotel room and stripped me naked and found that I was quite unresponsive. You attempted to fellate me - there were traces of your lipstick on my genitals, Chanel’s Passion I believe - but you couldn’t make me hard. That made you very angry and like a spoilt child you whipped me where it hurt. You were determined to wreck my relationship anyway. Faking orgasms is your job. Pretending to enjoy sex is your job. Play acting is your job and as far as you were concerned it was a job well done. No wonder they call it on the job because that’s all it is to you. I have only had sex with one woman and it wasn’t sex, she showed me how to make love in the truest sense of the word. I don’t want anything else and _I do not want you_.”  
  
John and Felicity reappeared, Felicity carrying the bright red laptop.   
  
“Are you alright, Mistress?” asked Felicity anxiously, handing her the laptop. Irene’s tears were trickling down her face and she felt rooted to the spot, almost paralyzed with the enormity of her heart withering under Sherlock’s corrosive presence. John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock who smirked back, lowering his gun.  
  
“Well, that was invigorating. Make the video and we’ll be on our way. We’ll see ourselves out.”  
  
Adler mutely took the laptop. “We’ll go into the front room. Felicity, bring some make up wipes and my make up bag. If I have to humiliate myself, I might as well put a good face on it.”  
  
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.


	16. Chapter 16

“Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself, flower? I don’t have to go out. You could come along, Janice won‘t mind.”  
  
Helen was pulling on her dark pink coat in her hallway and Minty was chewing gum at roughly the same speed that Maggie sucks her dummy in the Simpsons when she’s agitated, arms firmly crossed. She popped a bubble and resumed chewing, then paused.  
  
“Thanks anyway, but I’d be shite company. I don’t really want to be sitting at lunch like a sad sack and get the why so glum chum talk. I don’t fancy explaining that I’ve dumped my husband who isn’t my husband who is actually my half brother because he‘s shagged someone else. Bit awkward over the garlic dough balls in Pizza Express and all that, like.”  
  
Helen smiled, picking up her hand bag and hung it cross body. “You’re a handful. Promise me you’ll phone me if you start feeling upset? I’ll come straight home.”  
  
“Don’t tell me, you’ve hidden all the sharp objects in the kitchen.”  
  
“I’m serious. I will come straight home. It’s no problem.”  
  
“Mum…I’ll be alright. I’m going to look through Sky to see if there’s a bad made for TV movie and Hoover up that bar of Galaxy that’s in the fridge. I’ll have a wee pity party to myself.”  
  
“Are you going to look at the results that Sherlock sent you? It’s not fair to leave him dangling like this.”  
  
Minty shrugged “I suppose. I’d better eat that chocolate for medicinal purposes first, I guess. I think I’ll need the extra sugar.”  
  
“Alright then, come and give your old Mammy a hug.”  
  
The much taller Minty enveloped Helen with her hug, lifted her off her feet and set her down.   
  
“I remember when I could do that to you, where has the time gone?”  
  
“Have a good time and say hello to Janice for me.”  
  
“I will. Remember, I’m at the end of the phone if you need anything.”  
  
Minty grinned and playfully pushed Helen towards the door.  
  
“Go!”  
  
“See you later alligator.”  
  
“In a while, crocodile.” Minty finger waved at her and the door shut.  
  
Sighing, she went into the kitchen of Helen’s flat, found the huge bar of Galaxy and clicked the kettle on for some coffee. The warm and welcoming flat felt a bit lonely and empty now the reassuring presence of her Mum had gone. Minty’s personality was all over the flat though - her fantasy art was proudly displayed, her degree certificate, her graduation photo and most poignant of all as she paused to look at it in the living room cradling her coffee, was her Anti-Wedding portrait that she had drawn and framed for her Mum’s Christmas present. It was her and Sherlock shortly after they had “married.” She sipped her coffee, crossed her eyes and pinged Sherlock’s nose through the glass. Mum had been delighted with it on Christmas day and had told Sherlock that even at Primary school her collages with dried pasta, glitter and tissue paper had been surprisingly sophisticated for a young child and that her teacher’s comments at Parent’s Night for Art were usually “Her artistic abilities are well beyond her years” and for Maths and Biology “she really needs to spend more time in the classroom instead of out in the corridor for talking” and “ she enjoys the theory of biology but comments about dissection like meat is murder are less welcome in class. Perhaps you could ask her to be a little less opinionated Ms Mackenzie.” Sherlock had chuckled and smiled so lovingly at her. Even with Sherlock holed up in her room Doing Research most of the time, it had been a brilliant Christmas. He had even deigned to wear a purple paper crown after the crackers had been pulled.  
  
 She walked over to the window which overlooked Cramond Water and the pathway along it. The sky was very overcast and threatened rain but there was still plenty of footfall on the path below. A fifty something lady in tailored dark jeans and a dark blue fleece pushed a three wheeled buggy with a small fair haired boy. A male cyclist flashed past. A blonde female jogger ran, her ponytail bouncing after her. All these supposedly normal people with their normal ordered little lives, she thought. Look at me - hiding at my Mum’s because reality is too much for me and I can’t face my brother-husband. Oh GOD. She drank her coffee. If it stayed dry, she could go for a walk to clear her head in a little bit. The e-mail popped into her head as an unwelcome reminder and she grimaced. It was up there with her Finals results how much she didn’t want to open it. She would psyche herself up to do it after the chocolate, a wee sit down and some cheesy telly. She was the mistress of procrastination.   
  
At the same time, Sherlock was getting into a taxi at Edinburgh Waverley, slowly and painfully, lifting his suitcase into it. He gave the directions to the driver and phoned John.  
  
“Are you there?”  
  
“Yes, I’m in the taxi now.”  
  
“What if Minty’s not at her Mum’s? Did you think of that?”  
  
“Edinburgh is tiny in comparison to London, John. I know my sweet sister-wife. She will be slumped on the couch at Helen’s watching mind-rot programmes. I know she doesn’t really like going out in Edinburgh anymore in case she bumps into her ex fiancé, anyone connected to him or any of the men she had a brief relationship with when we were apart. I will find her easily enough.”  
  
“Alright. Remember what I said, will you? Be _kind_ to her. No shouting, snapping or being too much of a wise-ass. This isn’t just anybody, this is your Minty and she’s hurt and upset. Go easy.”  
  
“Thanks for the lecture.”  
  
“No problem. How are you feeling, bit sore?”  
  
“Aching but I’ll live. The bodily discomfort is nothing compared to….”  
  
John didn’t need to him to fill the silence. Sherlock had been withdrawn, sad and had been composing on his violin. Tellingly, the tune he had composed drew on the Pentatonic scale, was a lament and was very Scottish. It sounded a bit like the Scottish dance tunes John’s Granny listened to on a Saturday night on the radio.   
  
“Go and bring her home again, Sherlock. She belongs with you.” John’s voice was warm, reassuring and sincere from Baker Street. “Give her my love.”  
  
“I will.” The tone of his voice also said _I miss her and am completely lost without her._  
  



	17. Chapter 17

  
The taxi took about 25 minutes to reach the affluent Edinburgh suburb of Cramond, right on the coast and popular with tourists and locals alike. It drew up in a very narrow cobbled road in front of an old converted water mill with flats that reflected the beautiful location. Sherlock got out, paid the driver and took his small black suitcase on wheels out. He peered at the list of names beside the buzzer and found the tag for Mackenzie. He pressed it.  
  
Minty had got settled  down on the couch and as the True Movies channels didn’t have anything appropriately overblown for her, had found Helen’s boxed set of The Thorn Birds. She would drool over Father Ralph instead. Her long legs were tucked under her and her bar of Galaxy on the seat next to her. She also had a pint glass full of chocolate milk on the floor for maximum comfort blow out effect. She knew that she would probably feel incredibly sugar rushed and sick after she had consumed it all but was willing to take the chance.  She sped through the menu options on the screen and with a contented little sigh, hit play and let her mind wander to Australia and a handsome priest. Not as sexy as my Sherlock Minty’s mind reminded her.  She frowned and emptied her mind.  
  
The buzzed cut through her peace. Strange, she wasn’t expecting anyone and surely Mum would have taken her key…parcel delivery? No, she would’ve said. Maybe it was someone who had pressed the wrong button. She decided to ignore it and 3 minutes later it buzzed insistently again. Clearly the person wasn’t going to leave her alone. She paused the DVD and padded through to the hallway and picked up the receiver on the intercom.  
  
“Who is it?” She intended to sound as pissed off as she felt.  
  
“Good afternoon, Cersei.”  
  
Her eyes widened and she tensed up. Oh, this was too much. Oh help. Saliva filled her mouth and she gulped, prickling, stomach in a ball.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing here?”  
  
“I could say the same about you. I’ve had a runaway bride to deal with and now I have a runaway wife. You know I’m impatient and you‘re headstrong, cut from the same cloth. I thought I’d come and sort this all out as soon as possible. I do so dislike sitting about doing nothing. Let me in.”  
  
“Alright” she sighed and buzzed him in. Her palms were sweaty and she wiped them on her jeans. Oh Lord, she felt sick. She wanted to see him but she didn’t all at the same time. And she hadn’t read that fucking e-mail. Jeez. She stood in the hallway, alternately willing him to go away and wanting to get this over and done with. She kept her eyes riveted to the door and opened it.   
  
He came in, smiling slightly at Minty as he scanned her over. Too pale, bags under her eyes, pulling at her lip ring. Anxious, not enough sleep. Tears in her eyes. Remember what John said. Be kind, This isn’t some woman you need to bark at to get evidence out of quickly, this is your Minty. Cersei to your Jaime.   
  
“Bloody Hell, look at your face!” Minty’s first instinct was to go to him to gently touch his bruised cheekbones and work out how to help him heal but she willed herself to keep her distance, not entirely sure how to play this. Plus, it was proof that Sherlock had not been lying. But then, hadn’t John once hit Sherlock so that he would look beaten up? Sherlock had told her that he had really given him a serious pasting, surprisingly so. Sherlock wouldn’t be beyond smacking himself into a door. She had to play it by ear.   
  
“Yes, don’t rush to cover me with kisses, dearest. I feel rather painful.”  
  
This was delivered sarcastically and Minty’s lips tightened.  
  
“Don’t you be worried about that, I wasn’t going to.” With that she flounced into the living room, nettled and he followed, sighing impatiently. She faced him and crossed her arms.  
  
“You‘re sadly predictable. Junk food, mindless romantic rubbish on the DVD player and what the Americans call a pity party. No facing up to a difficult situation and trying to resolve the most pressing issue of your marriage, like an adult. Instead you’re drowning out reality with sugar by both ingesting it and by watching it. Pitiful.”  
  
“Bite me, Sherlock. I’m just a girl, a normal woman with normal woman feelings and this is what we do. I’m not a fucking robot like you are. I stuff up, I eat crap and sometimes I watch crap too. It’s what normal, fallible, human women do. If that disappoints you, then Jesus…that’s tough shit. You’ve no idea how stressed and upset about all this I am. And FYI, what  I was going to watch is the Thorn Birds. You know, woman falls in love with a hot Catholic priest and vice versa, they are in love forever, she marries someone else because they can’t be together, they have a love child, he doesn‘t know about it, the son dies, the priest dies in her arms. I just wanted to watch something even more fucked up than we are for a distraction I‘m just…me.”  
  
Minty was flushed and her eyes shiny with tears. She hugged herself tighter, defensively.   
  
“Bite me?” Sherlock was confused, raising his eyebrows.   
  
“Aye, bite me. That’s what Tara says in True Blood. You know…True Blood? I have a thing about Bill Compton the vampire…oh never mind. When it comes to popular culture you’re as dumb as a bag of rocks as Sheldon out of the Big Bang Theory would say. Jeez.”  
  
Sherlock didn’t argue. He had done his best to show a little interest in the things Minty liked such as Game of Thrones but she was right. If it didn’t belong in the Mind Palace, he was lost.  
  
“Let’s move on, shall we? I’ve come here because I want to prove to you that I have done nothing wrong and to take you back home to Camden.”  
  
He saw Minty was at least listening to him and some tears were beginning to trickle down her face, trying to be brave but failing. He was also trying to be kind and less like himself because snapping at her would be counter productive.  
  
“I apologise for being rude. I appreciate what has happened has been emotionally difficult, even though I am simply incapable of cheating on you because I do not feel sexual desire for anyone else.”  
  
Minty blinked. “Do you want a cup of tea? Have you eaten today?”  
  
“Please. Has Helen made any of her superb shortbread lately? Perhaps I could have a piece?”  
  
“I’ll have a look in her biscuit tins. I’m not sure if she has. Sit down.”  
  
Sherlock sat down on the couch with a little “oof” at the pain. So far so good. He texted John.  
  
 **I AM AT HELEN’S NOW. MINTY IS AT LEAST TALKING TO ME. SHE IS EMOTIONAL BUT I STILL HAVE ALL MY TEETH. SH**  
  
 **GOOD. REMEMBER TO BE KIND. LOVE TO MINTY.**  
  
“John sends his love” Sherlock called to her. He had taken his laptop out his case and was firing it up.  
  
“Does he? That’s nice” Minty said distractedly as she made hot drinks and rummaged through Helen’s biscuit tins. There was no shortbread but there were some Blue Ribands and Breakaways. That would have to do. She got a side plate out of a cupboard and put a couple of the biscuits on it. He would also have to rough it with a bog standard mug instead of his usual poncy china one. She found an Edinburgh University one for him and put everything on a tray.   
  
“You are actually allowed to take your coat off” Minty observed.   
  
“Later, when all of this nonsense is resolved and we can go back to being husband and wife. I can relax then.”  
  
“Do you want to wear this cup of tea? It could be arranged.”  
  
“I’d rather drink it if it‘s all the same to you.”  
  
“Stop being a smart-arse then.”  
  
Minty set the tray down on a small wooden coffee table in front of the couch and handed him the mug.   
  
“No shortbread, you’ll have to slum it with chocolate biccies. No? I’ll have them.”  
  
“Forget your stomach for a few moments. I have something important to show you on my laptop.”  
  
“Nothing nasty?”  
  
“Nothing nasty, I promise.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this and thanks for your patience. There has been some things going on with me health wise and work wise and it's only now that I've been in the right mindspace to write. Thanks for reading, it means so much. Claire xxx

Minty watched as the video clip buffered and them started to play. A slim, elegant woman in a cream shift dress sat demurely on a chair, knees together and her shiny dark brown hair coiled on her head. Her make up was immaculate with teal eyeliner and blood red lipstick. Minty knew that if she wore an outfit like that, she would end up with brown sauce or ketchup down the front, damn it. So this was Adler…poised, elegant, controlled. Minty’s polar opposite.   
  
“I don’t understand why you are jealous” Sherlock murmured.  
  
“Doh. Look at her - she’s elegant, just so and all that. It makes me want to puke.”  
  
“You’re a woman and it’s to be expected.”  
  
“You’re a  - “  
  
“Araminta, please just watch the video.”  
  
Minty grunted.  
  
Irene smiled a tight smile at the camera and then started to speak.  
  
“Hello Araminta.”  
  
This made Minty ball her hands into tight fists and her knuckles were very white. Her nails dug into her palms. The name was said as a teasing caress and glided over it. Minty realised she felt the same way when she saw Nigella Lawson with her swelling snowy white bosoms, twinkle in her eyes and voluptuous mouth presenting her food-porn programmes and licking her fingers which was ever so slightly sexually confused and flustered. She was normally incredibly heterosexual but this did make her wonder about the theory that no-one actually is.  _She’s doing it deliberately. STOP IT RIGHT NOW, bitch_. She was stimulated AND furious.  
  
“My name is Irene Adler. Sherlock has just paid me a little visit. It was so pleasant to catch up with him, it’s nice for old friends to do that, don’t you think?”  
  
There was amusement in her voice, a taunt.   
  
“I’ll old friends you, you fucking cow” Minty snapped.  
  
“It seems my old friend has got married. Congratulations to you both. I’m sure you will have many happy years together. It’s appropriate that he has such an unusual spouse. I’m rather sad that he’s now an honest man, I did my best to tempt him because he’s not legally married - “  
  
“We’re as married as anyone ever can be. You don‘t need a piece of paper to show that. If you‘re married, you‘re married. Stupid c**t.” Minty said.  
  
Sherlock paused the film, exasperated.  
  
“Minty, be quiet and watch this film so we can get it over and done with.”  
  
“Fuck you very much.”  
  
“Oh but you want  to, don’t you?”  
  
 _This was too much. Both of them were at it._  
  
“Fucking shut up and let me watch it. I just want her to fuck off out of my face.”  
  
“As you wish.”  
  
The film resumed.  
  
“I’m sure you can’t blame me. Sherlock is so hard to resist and I do like a challenge so I thought I would have a little fun.  I know what most men like and was really looking forward to finding out what Sherlock did. It’s not the first time I’ve drugged him, what I used is perfectly harmless and I thought I had drugged him enough to make him finally give into me but it would seem I misjudged the dose. I did not have sex with him. I slapped him about a bit because I dreamed of slapping those exquisite cheekbones but I did not actually do any more. I pretended to because I was angry and wanted to do something to hurt him and to make him suffer for not wanting me. I gave him every opportunity and kept asking him to dinner but he was never hungry. So disappointing.”  
  
“You would give anyone indigestion just by looking at you.” cackled Minty and Sherlock laughed along with her. If Minty was being bitchy and wisecracking then she was very much back to her old self. This was going in the right direction.  
  
Irene stopped talking and looked into space for a few moments. Her face tightened and she seemed to be trying not to cry. For a few seconds she was genuinely moved but regained her composure. She turned to face the camera full on, self assurance back and the poise on full throttle. Minty just wanted to throttle her.  
  
“You’re welcome to him, Araminta. I wish you both every happiness even though what you’re doing is illegal - “  
  
“And drugging men trying to force them to have sex with you isn’t? Christ. You really are the absolute limit. I will do for you, I swear.”  
  
“And I am…sorry if my actions have upset you.”  
  
Irene smiled a strained smile and the film ended.  
  
Minty stood up, feeling a little claustrophobic and overwhelmed. Sherlock shut the laptop down, relieved that there were no real histrionics and the laptop hadn’t had a flying lesson out the window.  
  
“I’m going out for some fresh air.”  
  
“It looks like it might rain, sweetheart.”  
  
“I really need it. I’ll go and get my hoodie.”  
  
“Do you want me to come with you?”  
  
“Please. Plus, if it rains you can give me your coat.”  
  
“You’re presumptious, all of a sudden.”  
  
Minty smiled.  
  
“You’re supposed to be a gentleman and offer me your coat. And you‘re my husband so you‘re supposed to love AND cherish me.”  
  
Sherlock raised his eyebrows at her and went to get his coat. Minty was dressed and ready to go out when he came back, she was chewing her trademark gum.   
  
“Am I still your husband?”  
  
Minty popped a bubble and chewed for a few more moments. Sherlock watched her and quietly agonised, needing her to reassure him although he would never show it. Hadn’t he done enough? He would’ve killed Irene without hesitation if he had to. Faint heart never won fair lady and all that. He could not lose her again.  
  
“Sherlock…you’ve always been my husband even when I’ve wanted to fucking shoot you with your own fucking gun. You don’t stop loving someone just like that, it doesn’t work that way. Let‘s go out. Mum gave me a spare key, I need to find it.”  
  
“Beside the telephone on the small table in the hall.”  
  
“How - “  
  
Sherlock smiled, pleased to be right yet again. “She always puts her spare keys there. As you would say, nothing gets past me.”  
  
“That’s right. Is that you?”  
  
“I can never get used to your turn of phrase. Of course it’s me. Sorry, I forgot…you mean are you ready?”  
  
“That’s it. And you are meant to say, that’s me.”  
  
“I’m not Scottish, silly woman.”  
  
“Hmpf. Pity. Let’s go.”  
  
They walked along the path that ran along the river Cramond under darkening skies maintaining a deliberate distance as there were too many walkers using the path and a little bed and breakfast that ran a small coffee shop was also on the path. They were quiet at first and then Minty spoke when they got into the small piece of woodland that was more secluded.  
  
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry I doubted you. That video that Irene sent me was one of the most horrible things I’ve ever seen. It was bloody brutal. She’s one seriously sick puppy. I’m sorry I came back here…my head was bursting and I was scared. I don’t handle things like this very well. I don’t want to lose you. We were parted for so long…I couldn’t stand it again.”  
  
They stopped and they faced each other. Looking around first, Minty took Sherlock’s hands in her own.  
  
“There’s a bench on the way back. I want to watch the river for a little while. Come  with me?”  
  
“I’d love to, but it will be a little while, I‘m afraid. The sky is getting darker and I can smell the moisture in the air.”  
  
Again maintaining a safe distance, they walked back to the bench which could be seen from Helen’s flat and sat down. A slight breeze teased Sherlock and Minty’s hair. A strand whipped across Minty’s face and Sherlock longed to move it away but didn’t dare do so as it was too intimate a gesture for public. They could hear the gentle running of the river in front of them, the clinking of cups and the scraping of  chairs from the coffee shop nearby and the footfall on the path.   
  
Looking around, Sherlock took Minty’s hand and stroked it.   
  
“You’re quiet. Are you alright?” Minty looked at Sherlock and squeezed Sherlock’s hand. He squeezed back.  
  
“Fine. Sore, but fine. Am I your husband again? Not just your brother?”  
  
This time his voice was anxious.  
  
Minty had a fit of the giggles.   
  
“Careful, we’re in a public place you eejit. I told you before. Aye.”  
  
“I’m pleased this whole sorry business has been sorted out. You are the only woman I am sexually attracted to, I have never wanted anyone else. I love you.”  
  
Minty’s eyes shone. “I know. I love you too. That’s why I reacted as I did. I couldn’t stand to see you with anyone else. It was so horrible. You’re my Sherlock, not hers.”  
  
“To be honest, I still can’t quite see why you should have got so distressed. It was clear from the video that I was not responding normally to sexual stimuli - “  
  
Minty glared at him and thumped him very hard on the arm.   
  
“OW! What that strictly - “  
  
“You complete dick! You really have no common sense whatsoever, have you?”  
  
“I have plenty of sense. You should have been able to deduce that all was not well.”  
  
“Well pardon me for being a normal woman with more normal emotional sense than her big brother. You arse.”  
  
Sherlock rubbed his arm. “Sorry. Irene won’t interfere with us again.”  
  
“She’d better not. I’d fucking kill her. How did you make her apologise? I can’t see why she would do that off her own back.”  
  
“She was…persuaded.”  
  
“Come on, out with it. What did you do?”  
  
“I shot at her. Don’t worry, I deliberately missed. It was a warning nip.”  
  
Minty’s hand flew to her mouth and she nervously laughed. “Oh you didn’t.”  
  
“Would I joke about that?   
  
“No. Maybe you wouldn‘t. Oh bloody Hell…I don’t know what to say to that. You really didn’t hurt her? God, you really are a fucking nutter sometimes. ”  
  
“No, I wouldn’t raise my hand to a woman, you know that. But…if she hurt you….”  
  
Minty knew that unflinching look and was uncomfortable.  
  
A drop of rain splashed on Sherlock’s coat and another. He looked up at the sky.  
  
“We had better go back in. I’m starting to ache sitting on this hard bench.”  
  
  
Later on, Sherlock and Minty were sitting on Helen’s burgundy sofa. It would be a cosy domestic scene except Sherlock’s feet were on the sofa and he was hugging his knees defensively on the left and Minty was sitting with her feet tucked under her on the right, like a pair of  spousal sibling bookends. And they were arguing over the game show Pointless.  
  
“Will you stop sitting there with a face like a burst welly? You’re just pissed off because I got a Pointless answer and you didn’t. You can’t know everything. I know you’d like to.”  
  
“What a stupid programme. The contestants are blethering idiots and the questions are related to trivia which is utterly useless.”  
  
“It’s called popular culture you loon. Most people have some bloody awareness of the world around them. Everyone apart from you.”  
  
“I know what I need to know. Who needs to know about top 40 Bruce Springsteen singles anyway?”  
  
Minty grinned and pointed to an album cover in a black frame on Helen’s living room wall. It was a copy of Darkness on the Edge of Town by Bruce Springsteen and it was signed with a personal dedication to Helen.  
  
“I was force fed The Boss’ music. as a wee lassie, remember. Mum’s one of his biggest fans ever. She saw him at Hampden in Glasgow in the 80s and waited outside his hotel all day until he came out and signed her album. She still plays his CDs in the car all the time. I remember I said once I wished that Bruce was my Daddy instead of our Dad. Mum didn’t know what to say to that at first and said that she would‘ve liked that too. So, I knew that Spare Parts was a top 40 single and it was a Pointless answer.”  
  
“It would have made our lives easier if Bruce had been but maybe you would’ve been living in America and we would never have met.”  
  
“True. It’s a good job I like Bruce’s music anyway. She’s so excited about coming to London to see him with me this summer and of course she’s got a ticket to see him in Glasgow.”  
  
“Slight overkill, surely?”  
  
Minty shook her head. “ Not as far as Mum is concerned. You have to look at this way. She had to bring me up by herself and hold down a job as a lecturer. I guess it was her way of cutting loose a bit and having some me-time. I know it wasn’t easy for her. But - I got a Pointless answer!”  
  
Minty blew a raspberry and did the loser sign with her hand in an L shape pressed to her forehead.  
  
Sherlock hugged his knees tighter and scowled.  
  
The front door opened and shut.  
  
“That’ll be Mum. Have a word with yourself, will you?”  
  
“Only because it’s your mother.”  
  
“Well, whatever.”  
  
Helen came into the living room as Sherlock uncoiled himself from the sofa with a painful wince to stand up. Helen sat her hand bag on the floor and looked quizzically at the couple.  
  
“We’ve got a surprise visitor! Is everything okay?”  
  
Helen directed this at Minty carefully, reading her for signs of upset.   
  
“Aye, Mum. It’s…fine, all fine. We’re good.”  
  
Sherlock went over to Helen and hugged her.  
  
“Good to see you again, Helen. I wanted to come up to see Minty and make sure she was still my wife.”  
  
“Good to see you too, son.” Helen said warmly. Sherlock had a little secret glow at the “son.” It meant that he was more or less doing The Husband Thing Right. That mattered.  
  
Helen looked him over. “Who’s been a brave soldier then? That’s been quite a doing.”  
  
Minty let out a very loud snort from the sofa and grinned as Sherlock looked confused.  
  
“Mum means that you’ve had a right battering.”  
  
“Yes, I did. I am very painful and quite tired from being drugged.”  
  
Minty called out again.  
  
“Mum, can I ask a favour?”  
  
Helen had nipped into the hallway to put away her coat and bag.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Would it be alright for Sherlock to stay tonight?”  
  
“Of course he can. I wasn’t expecting him, but it’s nice he’s here. If I’d known I’d have got him some beer or a bottle of wine. Have you eaten, dear?”  
  
“No, I’m not hungry. I’m too tired.”  
  
“I’ll make you some soup and toast, you have to eat something.”  
  
“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”  
  
“It’s no trouble, it’s what Mums do.”  
  
She was already in the kitchen opening cupboards, banging pots about and finding tins.   
  
“Will that do you too, Minty?”  
  
“Aye…Muuuuu-m?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Thanks for letting Sherlock stay over. Would it be at all possible for him to sleep with me tonight? It’s not as if anyone’s coming over. He’s been hurt and he will be sore on the sofa.”  
  
Helen came into the living room. Sherlock was sitting beside Minty with his arms around her doing his very best discomfort face.  
  
Helen sighed. “In the circumstances, yes. You know I’m not 100% happy about your situation. I accept it but it doesn’t mean it has to happen under my roof.”  
  
Sherlock seized on this. “By this statement do you mean that you accept us sharing a bed but not having sexual intercourse? People use the word it to refer to sex.”  
  
Minty went crimson. “SHERLOCK! For Christ’s sake!”  
  
Helen thought about it. “Yes, I suppose I do.”  
  
“Helen, my genitals have been whipped by a dominatrix and they are very bruised. It hurts to urinate, let alone have an erection. Besides, Minty is menstruating. The very last thing we will be doing tonight is making love. I just want to be near her.”  
  
Minty grabbed a cream cushion off the sofa and hid her face. She made dying of embarrassment noises into it.  
  
“That’s strictly more information than I needed Sherlock love, but I get the point. That’s fine. At the end of the day you’re both adults and I couldn’t stop Minty do anything if I tried. Now that’s been sorted out, I’ll make your tea.”  
  
Minty lowered the cushion, still very flushed. “I’ll help.”

 

  
  
In the dimly lit bedroom when Sherlock and Minty were alone in bed, Minty ran a whisper of a touch  over Sherlock’s bare chest and examined his bruises.  
  
“I’ll fucking kill her if I ever meet her, I swear.”  
  
“Careful, darling. I’m very tender.” Minty drew back and kissed him. He was down to his boxers and she carefully lifted the waistband and drew her breath in.  
  
“You really weren’t joking earlier, were you. Jesus. It’s…swollen and look at the colour. God, you could imagine getting that in the chippy.”  
  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow as Minty snapped the elastic back,  then winced. She lay back on the bed, laughing until she cried.  
  
“I’ll have a big willy supper and picked onions please…oh God!”  
  
Sherlock adjusted himself and smiled as he turned to face her. “You’re very silly sometimes but at least we can laugh at it.”  
  
Minty calmed down and Sherlock wiped the tears of mirth from her cheeks. She shivered.  
  
“When I am fully healed and you have stopped bleeding, I will show you just how much I love you and how much I adore you. I am going to spend hours making you climax again and again, just because I can and to show you that I am yours. Not hers…yours. Would you like that Araminta?”  
  
His voice teased out her name and she felt herself open and ready.  
  
“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it” she murmured.  
  
He kissed her and she gripped his back, not caring if he was in pain or not. She had to know he was real and he was there. Hers. Her mind whirled as she began to sink into him…he was the only thing that existed.  
  
“Oh I mean it” he breathed, looking into her eyes. “I’d take you right now if I wasn’t in pain and to HELL with what your Mum said….but I can‘t.”  
  
He released her and she thumped the bed in frustration.


	19. Chapter 19

 

Minty was swaying in the middle of her studio late one Thursday September night, eyes closed and a big fat goofy smile on her face. She had bought an old record player - the kind that was long, flat, had a fake wood veneer and was only for playing vinyl - in a local charity shop and a heap of old records that afternoon. She was in an old faded Slayer t-shirt, ripped blue jeans and was barefoot. She started to click her fingers along to the song which was Behind Closed Doors by Charlie Rich. It was on a country music compilation LP which she had bought because it reminder her of car journeys with her grandparents. She had been in the care of Nana and Papa Mackenzie when her Mum was working and Papa would collect her in his ancient Austin Allegro from school and take her back to Nana who would be waiting with home made drop scones and home made cooking. “Aw Papa, not that crappy music again,  can I put on Skid Row please?” she would wail from the back seat and wave a Maxell tape which would be ignored with mutters of “That’s just noise, oor Mints.” She paused from her swaying and she smiled sadly. She would give anything to be in that back seat with the smoke of his Golden Virginia roll ups creating a fug and his whistling again. She would usually be eating some treat she had bought from the corner shop near her school, maybe a packet of pickled onion Space Invaders or a ten pence mix of sweets in a thin white bag and feeling the cosy, secure feeling. Nana would spoil her rotten and Mum would come in at about 7 after marking papers and writing lectures, have tea and they would go home, with a full tummy of home made cooking and kisses and hugs off Nana and Papa. They more than made up for the absent she shared with Sherlock and Mycroft.

  
She swayed again and sang.  
  
“And when we get behind closed doors   
When she lets her hair hang down   
And she makes me glad that I'm a man   
Oh, no one knows what goes on   
behind closed doors…”  
  
She laughed and it was contented and ringing with satisfaction. And how she DID made Sherlock glad that he was a man…oh God. Wasn’t that just their song? Their true relationship in secret? Their very passionate relationship…Irene Adler was a four month memory now and Sherlock was elsewhere Doing Experiments. Her landline rang from the living room and she scooted to grab the receiver. Hippy Tam said he would call tonight for a natter and a catch up.. He was also a practicing Druid and had hand fasted Sherlock and Minty during their Anti-Wedding.   
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Evening, Dragon Lady.”  
  
The familiar rumble of Tam’s Paisley accent and Minty relaxed, comforted by the voice of home. Much as she loved London, she missed Scotland terribly. She pictured Tam’s crinkly brown eyes and long brown and grey waist length dreadlocks. She knew he would be wearing a t-shirt with a pagan motif or a folk metal band. He was her oldest friend and had met her on the very first day of University and they had instantly clicked. Students had constantly speculated and asked them if they were a couple as they were in the same classes and were inseparable. They simply never fancied each other and found the idea of going out with each other ridiculous. Minty conceded that her cosying up to Tam in the university’s refectory with her head on his shoulder all companionable might have looked a little odd to outside eyes.  
  
“How are you, it’s been fucking ages, like.”  
  
“I know, sorry about that. Been doing night shifts at the Tube but that was to cover holidays, back to normal now. It’s been a bit full on with Mabon as well, I’ve been doing a few handfastings and ceremonies too.”  
  
“Are Sherlock and I still your favourite hand fasted couple?”  
  
Minty’s tone was teasingly affectionate.  
  
“You had better believe it. I still maintain that you’re the most loved-up couple I’ve had the pleasure to join together. How is your old man anyway?”  
  
Minty’s warm glow came from her middle and radiated outwards. Little reminders of her relationship always did that. And it felt so good to be free to talk about it freely with someone she trusted totally.  
  
“Oh, he’s fine. Listen - give me a minute to switch off my music.”  
  
“Cool. What are you listening to? True Norwegian Black-Thrash-Death-Metal that sounds like you stuck your head in a Hoover?”  
  
“ Ha ha. No, just a cheesy compliation of Country music that reminds me of my Papa. I got it in the Shelter charity shop with a load of other old 33s. I picked up an old record player too. Be right back.”  
  
“See you later alligator.”  
  
“You’re a daftie.”  
  
Tam’s laughter followed Minty out of the room and she sprinted to the record player, grabbing the arm and stopping Dolly Parton singing about her Coat of Many Colours. She ran back and picked the receiver back up.  
  
“I’m back.”  
  
“So, how’s he doing?”  
  
“He’s good, really good. Tonight he’s out having a smashing time. Literally.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“You know what he’s like, once he’s got an idea in his head that’s bloody well it and there’s no use trying to derail his train of thought. Yesterday we had just finished our tea. I was washing the dishes and he was drying and then he just stopped dead, flung the tea towel down and said he had to go and do some experiments with glass. He phoned one of his dodgy contacts, came back, kissed me on the cheek and said he would be doing some experiments with glass  and off he went.”  
  
“Have you seen him since?”  
  
“No, but he phoned me because I kept phoning him until he picked up. It bugs the shit out of him. He was at Baker Street last night but he’s in some warehouse throwing glass at walls and measuring the trajectory and throw of the splinters. I told him to mind what he was doing and to phone John if he gets cut but he just said I’ll be fine and that was it. I worry…but if I don’t let him do what he likes then I know I’ll push him away.”  
  
“I don’t think that will happen. He’s very much into you.”  
  
“I know but I have to walk this fine line of reminding him that he still has obligations to me and that I’m not going to stop him living his life. I worry that I nag and that he’ll get sick of me. Since the whole Irene Adler thing I’ve put my foot down and said that if he’s working he does NOT go himself and John must be with him and also he tells me who he meeting or at least the location. He said I was interfering with his work and was really belligerent and then I told him that I had no intention of becoming a widow before my time and to stop being such a selfish c**t.”  
  
“I bet he loved that.”  
  
“It shut him up actually. I was surprised but then again, that’s my husband for you. How’s Morrigan doing?”  
  
“She’s fine thank you. I can’t believe it’s been 6 months since we got together, the Goddess blessed me with her.”  
  
“Did you say she was pagan as well?”  
  
“Yes, I met her on a night out.”  
  
“Do you have a picture?”  
  
“I’ll text one to you.”  
  
“Is that really her name? It’s lovely.”  
  
“It is now. She used to be called Sharon but she hated it. She changed it using Deed Poll about 5 years ago apparently.”  
  
“I thought so. It’s very cool.”  
  
“Absolutely.  Listen, do you fancy having lunch or something tomorrow?”  
  
“Brilliant, where do you want to go? Inspiral at Camden? It’s vegan so it will be fine for you as well. Morrigan is really pretty by the way, your text has just came through. She’s got lovely brown eyes. That green hair is awesome. I thought about a green streak once but I do like it purple. Bring her along.”  
  
“I can do tomorrow. Morrigan’s working but she’ll come some other time. We could do a double date with Sherlock if you want.”  
  
“Are you serious? He’s barely fit for grown up company at the best of times and he would probably be rude about poor Morrigan’s hair colour and our funny food. Remember, he’s a bugger when it comes to food as it is as he’s normally far too distracted to eat. I have to do the nagging wife thing to get him to eat. No, bad idea but thank you, it would‘ve been lovely I would love to meet you. Their falafel are to die for.”  
  
“Sounds good. Where is Inspiral? No, I‘ve got the laptop on anyway, I‘ll look it up, do they have a page on the Book of Face?”  
  
“Aye. I didn’t think men could multi-task?”  
  
  
“Aye right then, cheeky bitch. I’m just going to go and say that your drawings are shite on your FB page right now for that.”  
  
“I dare you, trol-a-lol.”  
  
“Right, you asked for it! Here I go!”  
  
“My fandom will give you a virtual kicking, just you watch.”  
  
Hippy Tam laughed and deliberately pounded the laptop’s keyboards harder so Minty could hear. She told him to wait and she fetched her laptop.  
  
She could just hear him calling before she picked the call up again.  
  
“Whassat?”  
  
“Minty, I don’t want to worry you but you’d better have a look at your art FB immediately You‘re not going to like it.”  
  
She knew he really wasn’t joking.  
  
“Bloody Hell, it’s taking a minute to warm up. What do you mean?”  
  
“Before you start, it wasn’t me. I really wouldn‘t do something so cruel.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay in writing this. I've had some personal stuff to sort out and it's only now that I've felt up to writing. I want to get this finished and at the same time, finish Fall At Your Feet which is my small Our Girl fic. Thanks for reading so far.
> 
> There is a fair bit of swearing in this so please bear this in mind if you're going to read it. 
> 
> Thanks, FopMistress

The second the laptop’s hard drive stopped whirring, Minty booted up her browser which automatically brought up Facebook. Minty had her own personal page and her professional one which was called Minty's Green Dragon World. She quickly brought up the page and scrolled. She held the mobile with her free hand.

“Can you see it?”

“Give me a minute…OH GOD, OH GOD. WHAT CUNT DID THIS? WHO KNOWS?”

The comment had been highlighted on the page. It read “SHE’S A DIRTY SLAG WHO FUCKS HER BROTHER FUCKING PERVERT.”

Minty deleted the comment, breathing hard. 

“Minty, I promise I didn’t do it. I wouldn’t hurt you like that.”

“I know…oh God…who’s found out? Tam, who KNOWS?”

“Take a deep breath, flower. Think. Have you told someone else?”

“Fuck, NO! Only you, Molly, John, Mycroft, Mum, Mrs Hudson and Kath know apart from me and Sherlock. We’ve been so careful and I can see anyone else telling anyone. I trust you all.”

While they were talking, another comment popped up.

DON’T THINK THAT DELETING MY COMMENTS I’M GOING TO GO AWAY. YOU’VE GOT A DIRTY LITTLE SECRET.

Minty immediately deleted it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have done that. It might have been a better idea to take a screen shot of it to show Sherlock.”

“What? I don’t want anyone reading this. I feel totally sick. Who would do such a thing? I feel freaked out right now.”

“Minty, there’s another one. I‘m making a screen shot.”

“I’M NOT GOING AWAY. IS YOUR BROTHER A GOOD FUCK?”

Minty felt grateful that Tam was sensible enough to think of something like that because her mind was all over the place. She could see that the likes were piling up and the comments too. Some were disbelieving, some were defensive and some to her skin crawling pique started to become fairly pornographic in content. 

“I have to do something. I'm taking the page down.”

“Okay, you can do that. I've saved it all. You should get a hold of Sherlock, bugger his experiments. If you're upset he would want to know and he'll want to investigate it. It's not the type of thing that you can dismiss. Someone knows about your private life and is out for you.”

“Maybe you're right. I feel all shaky and sick and really..dirty. No-one's ever spoke like that to me, to my face anyway. It looks too...real. I feel violated. It's my ART PAGE! Can I hang up and call you back?”

“Do it. Speak soon.”

Minty's hands shook slightly as she tried to call Sherlock but his mobile was switched off. She screeched and threw it at the wall, where it smashed. She half spun and her hands flew to her head. Now her mobile was trashed...she really hoped that her landline phone had Sherlock's number programmed in...she couldn't remember doing it. She grabbed it and whew-d as Sherlock's number was in the address book but still no answer. She went back online and FB'd Tam.

Why didnt u call?

Smashed my mobile. Sherlock not answering. Bollox What do I do?

Try John.

Good one. BRB.

John's number was on her landline so she called it. It just rang out. She tried again this time and he picked up. He sounded like she had woken him up.

“Hello?”

Definitely groggy. 

“Hiya John, it's me. Is Sherlock there? Has he come home?”

“No, not yet. You don't sound right, what's up?”

Minty was gulping back tears and trying not to get in a flap.

“Someone's been putting posts about me and Sherlock sleeping together on my Facebook art page, really rude posts. I'm pure shitting myself. Who could know? I need Sherlock to sort it out. I'm all shaky and stuff and I'm scared.”

Minty broke off as tears ran down her face. 

“Have you taken the page down?”

“Aye, I've been talking to Hippy Tam tonight and he did a screen dump of everything as proof. I can't let someone break me and Sherlock up again, we've been fine since Irene Adler. It's not fair...I'm sorry to sound like a brat but it's not fair and we're hurting nobody.” 

“Right. He's probably still busy but if he shows here I'll get him to come to yours straight away. You can come here if you need to.”

“No...I'll be fine once Sherlock phones. He'll sort it, I know he will.”

“You know what he's like, he'll personally hunt down every troll and make them apologise to you personally AND then probably headbutt them.”

Minty giggled in spite of herself. “He would too.”

“That's better. Go to bed, don't worry, we'll get it sorted out. We can manage this although I'm wondering who's found out. I don't think it's anyone who we trust, it's something else. I know it's easier said than done and you're bound to be concerned, but don't worry. Phone me again if you need to, okay?”

“Thanks John. I'm sorry, you sound really tired.”

“I am, but it's fine. Good night.”

“Night night John, sleep tight.”

Minty was pacified for the moment and messaged Hippy Tam back to say that John would tell him to come to Camden as soon as he showed at Baker Street. Tam told her to keep calm and go to bed. Suddenly Minty thought this was a good idea as she was drained. 

At about 3am when the only sounds in Minty's flat was the street outside; black taxis, drunken cackles and catcalls and even the distant bark of an urban fox, her livingroom window suddenly shattered and a brick fell only about half a metre from the end of her sofa bed. Minty's eyes shot open and she shrieked in fright. The curtains fluttered from the breeze in the broken window and she froze for a moment. What the FUCK? Minty slowly got out of bed and gingerly tiptoed round the broken glass to look outside. Just then, there was a shout from a young male London voice.

“Come out, you dirty slag! You fucking slag! Fanny like a welly top!”

“Yeah, right wizard's sleeve, fucking BINT! Come out and give us one, you're not fussy!”

Two rude male voices then. Were they talking about HER? Fury took over fear. She blundered in the dark for her keys and in her night attire, she sped out the flat in her bare feet. Her right foot caught on a piece of broken bottle in the street. and she howled, stopping and hopping on her left foot. Fuck, that hurt. She saw a couple of guys in their late teens in cheap tracksuits running off down the street that were off at a real lick.

“WOULDN'T TOUCH YOU WITH SOMEONE ELSE'S YOU CUNTS! COME BACK WHEN YOUR BALLS HAVE DROPPED!”

She staggered slightly and flung her arms out to regain her balance. She then contorted herself to have a quick look at her foot in the streetlight. The sole was sliced and bleeding heavily but no glass appeared to be in the wound. A group of young fake tanned twenty something girls in shag me shoes and micro dresses gave her a funny look and Minty snarled HAD A GOOD ENOUGH LOOK at them. They gave her a withering look en masse but left her well alone, sniggering at her when they were at a safe distance. She hopped painfully back up the stairs to her flat, her foot throbbing. She was feeling slightly light headed with the pain. Through the haze of pain, confusion, indignation and repulsion, she began to wonder if this was connected to the Facebook hack. How else would people have any idea about her private life? Safely inside, she hopped into the bathroom and after a series of grunts and heaves, levered her right foot onto the sink. She ran one of the taps and wincing, did her best to wash some of the dirt off the wound. Did she have any Germolene in the flat? No, it would need a proper clean. She tensed. Oh God...what about stitches? John would know. Hopping off the sink, she grabbed a handful of toilet paper so she could sit on the bed to staunch the bleeding which slowing slightly. After a bit of scrabbling, she got hold of the telephone and called John.

“Hu-hullo?”

“John, it's me. Someone's chucked a fucking brick through the window and I've cut my foot. It's fucking sore, like. I want Sherlock. NOW.”

“Wha-what? What time is it?

“DOES IT MATTER? SOME CUNT'S BROKE MY FUCKING WINDOW! MY FOOT'S PISHING BLOOD! FUCKING WAKE UP”!

“Woah. Woah there. Alright. I'm sorry. With you. I'm going to get dressed and come round. Don't go anywhere, don't call the police until we've had a look. I'll phone Sherlock. Have you tried him?”

“Aye and I've smashed my phone. I'm fucking sore. Can you bandage my foot up and that? I'm feeling a bit funny.”

“Yes, I'll bring my doctor's bag. Don't worry. See you soon.”

“I want Sherlock” Minty whined.

“I know, sweetheart. I'll tear him a new one when we find him.”

“Okay. Bye”

Minty's initial adrenaline at seeing off the thugs who had abused her was wearing off and now she was shivering with fright and her eyes filled with tears. 

At this, her landline rang and she snatched it, tears freely flowing.

“Araminta! Stop snivelling and tell me what's happened. STOP CRYING. I can't help you while you're drowning in your own snot. Okay...okay, I'm sorry. I was busy. On my way.”


End file.
